


We've Got History

by PunQueen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Adoption, Angst, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Bisexual Shuri (Marvel), Bullying, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Good Peter, Hurt/Comfort, I honestly don't know if there's a slower slow burn than this fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lesbian Michelle Jones, Lesbian Shuri (Marvel), M/M, Meme Lord Shuri (Marvel), Not Beta Read, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, Self-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, This is literally one of the SLOWEST Slow burns you'll ever find, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 56
Words: 148,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunQueen/pseuds/PunQueen
Summary: Peter Parker invites you to study at Avengers Tower after being paired with you for a history project. Over your time together, he starts to notice some things about your behavior. He isn't the only one, and you slowly learn what it means to have a family. AU since Civil War. Peter Parker x Female!Genius!Abused!ReaderWeekly updates on Saturdays!!Warnings: Read the tags... Mentions of abuse and bullying, Language, this is my first time writing a self-insert fic
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader
Comments: 2727
Kudos: 2132
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Peter Parker's Tales, oc self insertSI





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y/N: your name Y/L/N: your last name Y/F/N: your full name  
> Y/H/C: your hair color Y/E/C: your eye color Y/H/T: your hair texture 
> 
> Similar, relevant terminology will be noted in the author's note or chapter summary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and Peter Parker get assigned a project.

It was your third block - history - and you sat tiredly at your unassigned assigned desk. Term was wrapping up and it was time for the subjectively worst part of the semester: the big term project. You knew you wouldn’t get lucky with a simple slideshow or even a short essay. No, it was a full scale project that you’d have to present in front of the class with a demonstration. Worse than that, it was a group project. 

You bounced your leg nervously as you read over the rubric. It would certainly require focus, time, and (something your professor had mentioned repeatedly) plenty of time outside of class. You listened as he listed off the groups in sets of three. You quickly realized that your class of 29 wouldn’t divide evenly and your heart sunk as he reached the end of the list. 

“And finally, Y/F/N and Peter Parker will be the group of two. And I won’t be giving you any free passes, I expect the best from all of you,” he said. The bell rang dismissing the class to their next period. 

Lunch and fourth period passed by in a rush as you threw yourself into your classwork. You didn’t have very many friends to socialize with during the day, your busy schedule not allowing for such a luxury. You weren’t on bad terms with anybody (other than Flash, the school bully), but you just weren’t close to anyone. And that was why it took you by surprise when Peter slid into the usually empty seat beside you during fifth block physics. 

“Hey, Y/N.” He looked nervous. 

You gave him a small smile back. “Peter. Hope everything is going well. How’s academic decathlon going?” you asked, trying to make him less uncomfortable. 

He perked up at the mention. “It’s going great, you really should join though. The team would be so lucky to have you.” They had been trying to recruit you for the club since you had entered school, every member having approached you at least once. 

You thought back to what your father had said when you first proposed the idea. Not only what he said, but how he had reacted. It was not a fun memory. “I really can’t, Peter, I have a job. Really difficult hours.” 

“Well, maybe you should get a new job,” he suggested. “Not- not to sound rude, I mean, if you like your job then you should keep it, and I know you said things for your family were tough and uh-” 

“Peter,” you interrupted as he began to ramble. “I’ve been thinking about it, honestly. But I really can’t look for a new job on top of studying. Speaking of which, the history project?” 

Your professor, Mr. Downey had finished whatever he was working on and called attention for the class, cutting the conversation short. “Guess we’ll talk after class,” you said apologetically. 

Halfway through the lecture, a note slid across to you while Mr. Downey’s back was turned. _Are you busy on Tuesdays? Right after school._ It read. 

_I can make time. Library?_ You scratched back quickly. You folded the note and passed it back. He nodded in response and you both continued your note taking diligently. 

You smiled at Peter as the both of you split ways. You picked up the books you had dropped off at lunch and turned to go. When you turned around, however, you were face to face with Flash Thompson. He trapped you with arms on either side of your head. 

“Well, well, if it isn’t pretty little Y/L/N,” he jested. 

You narrowly refrained from groaning. “What do you want Flash? For the 73rd time, I’m not going out with you.”

His smirk fell quickly. “You’re making a mistake.” 

“You were a mistake,” you scoffed. _Oh shit, Y/N, what did you just say?_

“You wanna say that again, bitch?” he demanded. 

You stood, frozen, and he must’ve taken it as a no. 

“I fuckin’ thought so. Get out of my face,” he ordered, shoving you into the lockers as he left. 

You walked towards the metro numbly. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard such comments, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. You took the train to your run down neighborhood, not making any extra stops on your way home. Not many people knew, but you were one of the few students who managed to get into Midtown by smarts alone. In short: you were there on a full scholarship. 

The ride home was short, only about fifteen minutes. You checked your watch as you got off your stop. If you were fast enough, you’d get home before your father. If you were even faster, it would give you the chance to grab your work clothes and a quick snack, but you didn’t feel like running home that day. Speed walking would get you there just fine.

When you got to your apartment, your heart dropped. Your father’s car was already parked outside. You clutched the straps of your bag. There was nothing for it: you’d have to face him. You walked up to your apartment on the third floor dejectedly, trying to think of what you could say to all of his questions. 

You didn’t bother to call out when you entered. If you were quiet, he might not even know you’re there. You could sneak- 

“Finally home, are you?” he demanded. He was still in his police uniform, so he must have gotten home recently. 

“I came as soon as school finished,” you defended quietly. He cuffed the side of your head angrily. 

“I didn’t give you permission to speak. And you will speak to me with respect when I do,” he barked. “You are supposed to be home before me every day. I expect to come home to a couple of cold beers on the counter and things where they should be. I put food in that fridge with my money, I expect you to cook. I put this roof over your head, feed you, and give you a place to sleep, you ungrateful piece of shit. And what do you do? Hang out with your friends? Huh?!” 

You held your breath as he spoke. “I’m sorry, sir, I-” 

“So you were? Hanging out with those dumb friends of yours in that school? Do you know how much money I pay for you to go there?!” he insisted. 

_None. You don’t pay any part of my tuition. I’m there on a scholarship._ “I’ll do better, sir.” 

“Damn right you will,” your father spat. “Get me my beers and get out of my face.” 

You obeyed his order instantly. It hadn’t always been this bad. He used to be a good dad, back when you were younger. And then his job had started to become more stressful, they began to give him more work. He started spending money on alcohol. Mostly cheap beers, sometimes whisky or scotch. There was a bottle of vodka somewhere, but he had only bought it once from what you knew. 

You gave him his beers and left him in the living room to watch TV. The bar and grill you worked at opened at five thirty, and you worked from the early shift until eleven, which gave you about an hour before and after to do all your homework. You finished what you could in class. 

Your father knew you had a job. He was the reason you had it, actually, since he insisted you pay your share of the rent. He didn’t know the actual salary you got paid; you lied to him so you could keep some money in a college savings account and you had received a couple of raises throughout the three years of working there. As it was, he took over half your monthly paycheck. You changed into your white shirt and black yoga pants- just as sleek as business pants, but easier to clean and way less expensive. You put a spare set into your backpack, spills and accidents were common in your line of work. You told your father where you were going, not bothering with the time that you would be back. He wouldn’t be staying up anyways.

It was a fifteen minute walk down to your work, The Great Dane Pub and Grill. Jeff Scott, the owner, was a kind man in his early fifties. He knew you were still in school and that “money was tight” and let you stay as late as midnight sometimes. He had also bought you pepper spray, with the reasoning that he would hate for anything to happen to one of his best workers. 

You greeted your coworkers, most of whom were college students, a few that were a bit older, as you passed them, putting your things in your locker and making sure your Y/H/C hair was held back before going to help with set up, methodically picking up the tasks that you were assigned and reminding a few of your coworkers of their own as you all started small talk. You could feel a genuine smile finally cross your face for the day as you started working.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you get coffee with Steve

You flopped onto your bed with a sigh. It was half past midnight on a Sunday morning and you wanted nothing more than to sleep. It had been a busy night at the Dane. Busy nights meant more tips, thankfully, and since you were still a minor, you didn’t have to deal with drunk customers - minors weren’t allowed to work past midnight in New York. 

You lay in bed, your mind drifting from work, to your father, to school. You had requested off on Tuesday so you could work on your project with Peter. You thought of his shy smile and curly hair as he had sat by you in Physics. He was certainly a looker. Where were your thoughts going? Peter? The project. Focus on the project. 

The task was to explain a significant topic in history and its development over time. You could choose activities, movements, people, or events to study in depth and present. You were sure that somebody was going to choose World War II and Captain America. What with all the news about him, a project like that would be relatively easy to do the research for. You wondered momentarily about a study on technology throughout history. It was your goal to be an engineer, designing skyscrapers and cities. Designing somewhere nicer than your shabby apartment. Peter, you knew, was interning for Stark industries. Maybe he wouldn’t be objective to it. You would bring it up on Tuesday, you decided as your eyes slowly drifted shut.

* * *

You awoke with a jump to a loud slam of your door opening. “Get up,” your father demanded, dragging you out of bed forcibly. “What were you doing all night? Get up, make me breakfast. I’m already running late.” 

You obeyed the order as your heart settled. You weren’t aware he had picked up a sunday shift this week, otherwise you would have set your alarm. You quickly set some toast in the toaster and pulled out some cream cheese and vegetables for a quick sandwich. You managed to wrap it in a napkin as he exited his room. He took the sandwich without so much as a “thank you” before slamming the door on his way out. You hoped he hadn’t awoken the neighbors with all the banging. 

Since you were in the kitchen, you decided to make a simple breakfast for yourself. Some eggs, with salt and pepper. You put a couple more pieces of bread in the toaster and poured a glass of your favorite juice. You noticed the fridge was practically empty, and jotted some food down on a list for later. 

You ate in the living room, since your father was already out, and scrolled through your phone. A few new ideas for who was behind the mask of Spiderman had been released, alongside the latest news report regarding the Avengers. You didn’t really follow celebrities much, but you had time to spare. Sundays were cleaning days, your dad was normally out of the house until late at night doing whatever it was that he did on days he wasn’t working. 

Finished with your breakfast, you set your phone down to begin your weekly tasks. Laundry had to be cleaned, you needed to vacuum the living room and bedrooms, clean the bathroom, wipe down the windows, and find a place for some miscellaneous items. When that was done, you had time to read or work on a side project. Or bike. You hadn’t gone biking in a long while. 

You turned on your favorite playlist as you started out, singing along to the songs as you made your way around the apartment. First was the kitchen, which was normally relatively clean. You tended to clean things as soon as you used them, a forced habit instilled by your father. You set your plate in the dishwasher and turned it on since it was full. You’d empty it later that night. 

Next, you set about collecting the laundry from around the apartment and sorting it into various baskets. You took one down to the main level so you could wash it, inserting the necessary cash before walking back up the stairs. You sat down in the kitchen for a break and some lunch before pulling yourself back up. Wipe down the windows. Clean the bathroom. Vacuum. Put a new load in the washer, put the other load in the dryer. 

It was easy going. Between tasks you sat down for a snack or a bit of light reading. As you began folding the clothes from the dryer, you clicked on the TV, watching as you matched socks and folded towels. There were a couple reports about wherever the Avengers’ last mission had been, mixed in with a bit of local news.

Finishing up with your chores, you decided to get your bike out. You tinkered with it a bit, making sure everything was as it should be and cleaning off the dirt and dust that had collected. You would spend the rest of the day outside, you decided. Maybe bike to that one park you used to go to as a kid. 

You ended up biking around the city aimlessly, stopping for coffee just a bit before sunset. You locked your bike to a tree outside the local coffee shop and entered happily, a warm feeling filling you as you inhaled the scent of fresh coffee and pastries. You looked around the cafe as you entered, taking note of some of the people you’d seen there before. There was an unfamiliar blond standing near the counter. He was tall and buff, and it looked like he was studying the menu from under his cap.

You took a deep breath as you approached. He wouldn’t be able to do anything in a public place and it would look weird if you entered just to leave. “Um, excuse me, are you in line?” 

He startled out of his focus. “Oh no, sorry, just looking at the menu. Please,” he gestured for you to pass him, taking a step back. 

There was a short wait for the two people in front of you before you got to order. “Hi there, [your favorite coffee with milk and sugar] to go, please,” you requested from the girl at the register. She looked to be around your age. [A/N: my fave coffee is a Lavender Honey Latte that I can only find at like 2 shops nearby.]

“Sure thing! Could I have a name for that?” she requested peppily. 

“Y/N,” you said, pulling out your debit card to pay. The blond was awkwardly still looking as you waited for your drink. He seemed a little lost. Given that this was one of your favorite cafes, you decided to approach him again. 

“Can’t decide?” you inquired. “There’s a lot of options, I know.” 

He glanced down to you, and you noticed the height difference. “A friend of mine doesn’t believe I could go to a coffee shop and order something that isn’t a plain cup of coffee,” he explained, rocking on his heels. “I think he sent me here on purpose, to try and prove me wrong.” 

You glanced at the menu and then at the counter. “Well, I’ve tried pretty much everything this place offers so maybe I’ll be able to help,” you offered with a smile. “My favorite drink here is the [your favorite coffee]. A little sweet and a perfect milk to coffee ratio.” 

A small frown crossed his face. “I’m not really a fan of sweet stuff,” he declined. “But I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to recommendations, though.”

You nodded, keeping an eye on the counter. “Okay… How do you feel about chocolate?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mind it I suppose, I’ve never tried it in coffee.” 

You shrugged. “Maybe today’s the day. The spiced mocha has a bit of a kick, if you’re into that, but you seem more like a S’mores mocha type of guy, if you’re getting anything extra. Then again, you could just order a plain mocha and leave with that. Technically it’s more than coffee.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. “Which would you get?” 

“S’mores, no whip, extra toasted marshmallow,” you rattled off instantly. Someone called your name at the counter. “Oh that’s mine, gimme a sec.”

He looked mildly amused as you left, finally approaching the cashier to order. He joined you as he waited for his drink. “You seemed rather certain of your order,” he commented. 

You perked up in interest. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. Did you get it?” 

He shook his head, an apologetic smile on his face. “Just a plain mocha for me today. Maybe next time, though.” 

You nodded and took a sip of your drink. “Understandable. My name is Y/N by the way.” You clutched your drink tightly as you introduced yourself.

“Y/N. Good to know, I’m Steve.” It looked like you were saved from a handshake by his drink being called. You breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

He took a glance around the establishment. “If you’re not busy, would you like to join me?” he motioned to an empty table. “I don’t have anywhere to be for a while.” 

You blushed at invitation. He probably didn’t know you were only a teenager. That’s awkward. Or you were reading into it too much. “Oh, I actually have to get going but I come past here pretty often, so maybe we’ll cross paths again. I hope you enjoy your mocha, Steve.” 

“Thank you, it was good talking with you,” he said kindly. 

You gave him a small wave as you made your way out. Your bike had a nifty cup holder on the top that you had designed and installed by yourself, purely because you bought coffee so often, and you stuck your drink there as you removed the bike lock from the tree and wrapped it around your bike again. Steve was nice, you decided. You’d try and come back next week with some reading material, maybe he’d stop by again. You biked through the streets back home, occasionally single handedly as you sipped your drink. Yeah, you’d stop by next week. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve wins the bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda Steve's POV but like 3rd person  
> I felt really weird saying "you" because Steve doesn't know who you are so _yeah_ learning as we go I guess?

It was Sunday and an official day off for everyone in Avengers Tower. Steve, who was spending his time in the art studio, decided he wanted to leave for a quick snack. He frowned as elevated voices reached him through the hallway, walking just a bit faster.

“That’s not even coffee,” Sam exclaimed, gesturing wildly to the plastic cup in Clint’s hand as Steve entered the living room on his way to the kitchen. “There is literally no coffee in that.” 

“There is coffee,” Clint defended. “It’s a-” 

“There is no coffee in a frappuccino, man! It’s coffee flavoring! There is no real coffee! There is no caffeine! And you buy a caramel frap of all things? That’s sugar and milk- No. No!- it’s sugar and milk, and ice. There is no coffee.” He took the cup from Clint’s hand, holding it at eye level. “No. Coffee.”

“You’re acting like you’ve never ordered a frappuccino,” said Tony, joining them. 

Steve chose that moment to join in. “What is a frappuccino?” he asked cautiously. 

“It’s a blended iced coffee,” explained Clint. 

“There is no coffee in a frappuccino. They make it with milk,” insisted Sam. “Coffee makes drinks dark, okay, like me. _That_ ,” he pointed to the clear plastic cup. “Looks like you with an itty bitty tan, okay? Not dark, not coffee.” 

“Did you really just- I’m gonna ignore you said that… you can order it with coffee, Sam. Tony, back me up here, Steve probably doesn’t even know what a Starbucks is.” 

“I know what Starbucks is,” said Steve, offended by the comment. 

“Oh?” said Tony, looking interested. “Have you ever gone inside a Starbucks, Cap?” 

“Yes, actually, I have,” replied Steve grudgingly. 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “And ordered more than a regular coffee?” 

He took Steve’s silence as a no. “Y’know what? Starbucks is overrated - Katniss, don’t interrupt me. There’s this place called King’s Brew Cafe. Here I’ll write the directions for you.” Tony took a note from off the magnet on the fridge that was usually used for writing down groceries. “And it’s got some of the best coffee I’ve ever had. Tiny shop, one of greatest in New York. _But_ if you go there and get a black coffee, you owe me ten dollars.” 

Steve looked at Tony incredulously. “You’re betting ten dollars that I can’t get something other than a black coffee.” That was absolutely ridiculous. 

“It has to be flavored. I’ll even pay for the drink,” said Tony. “And you need to drink it here, so I can see you actually got it.”

Steve took the note from Tony's hand. “Fine,” he said. “You’re on.” He stuffed a cap onto his head and a fake pair of transitions as he left. 

It would be easy, he thought, as he climbed onto his motorcycle. It’s just a coffee.

He had not expected the array of options to choose from, with all sorts of flavors and mixes and words he didn’t know. He stubbornly refused to lose a bet over something so simple. At the same time, he wanted to drink something he’d enjoy. _God, why is this so difficult?_

“Um, excuse me, are you in line?” asked a shy voice from his left.

He turned his attention away from the menu to face you. “Oh no, sorry, just looking at the menu. Please.” He took a step back to allow you to pass in front of him and buy your coffee. Meanwhile, he was wondering about the difference between a flat white and a latte and whether oat milk was really that special.

He had not expected you to approach him again. 

“Can’t decide?” you inquired. “There’s a lot of options, I know.”

He took in your appearance momentarily. A loose sweater and jeans. Your [y/h/c] hair and face looked a bit wind blown,with your arms in front of you nervously. Defensively, almost. You certainly didn't look like a threat, but looks could be deceiving. 

“A friend of mine doesn’t believe I could go to a coffee shop and order something that isn’t a plain cup of coffee,” he explained vaguely. “I think he sent me here on purpose, to try and prove me wrong.” 

It was exactly the type of thing Tony would do. It was just his personality. Steve and Tony had slowly resolved their issues in the year following the Sokovia Accord, allowing the pair to settle back into a rocky friendship. Tony was still Tony, though, and as a Stark he could be a right pain in the neck. Steve really didn’t want to lose such a small bet.

He watched your eyes dart from the menu to the counter, waiting for your drink. A part of him wondered why you had made conversation when you looked so anxious. “Well, I’ve tried pretty much everything this place offers so maybe I’ll be able to help,” you offered with a smile. “My favorite drink here is the [your favorite coffee]. A little sweet and a perfect milk to coffee ratio.” 

Steve had quickly come to terms with the fact that the modern day equivalent of ‘ _a little sweet_ ’ was very different from what he had grown up with. He frowned. “I’m not really a fan of sweet stuff,” he declined. “But I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to recommendations, though.”

He watched as your eyes avoided his, waiting for your own drink to be called. He was curious if you’d be more or less jittery once you had your caffeine. 

“Okay… How do you feel about chocolate?” you asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t mind it I suppose, I’ve never tried it in coffee.” 

You shrugged, the collar of your sweater shifting slightly with the motion. No vest underneath. Not an agent. “Maybe today’s the day. The spiced mocha has a bit of a kick, if you’re into that, but you seem more like a S’mores mocha type of guy, if you’re getting anything extra. Then again, you could just order a plain mocha and leave with that. Technically it’s more than coffee.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. Definitely just a plain mocha, then. Tony couldn’t say anything against it, it was more than just a plain coffee. “Which would you get?” he wondered aloud, if only for the sake of conversation.

“S’mores, no whip, extra toasted marshmallow,” you rattled off instantly. A barista called a name at the counter, y/n. “Oh that’s mine, gimme a sec,” you managed to say before rushing off.

Steve watched in amusement, deciding he would order then. “Hi, could I get a mocha? Medium, please,” he requested. 

“Yeah, sure thing. That’s $4.55,” the barista informed him. “Would you like a receipt?” 

“Yes, please, keep the change,” he said, exchanging a crinkled five for the paper she held. He folded it and tucked it into his wallet, which he then placed back into his pocket. 

He joined you as he waited for his drink. “You seemed rather certain of your order,” he commented. 

He watched as you perked up a bit, shoulders relaxing as you gripped your cup tightly. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. Did you get it?” 

Steve shook his head with an apologetic smile. _She must be really passionate about coffee_ , he thought. “Just a plain mocha for me today. Maybe next time, though.” 

You nodded, taking a sip from the cup in your hands. “Understandable. My name is Y/N by the way.” The increased pressure on your cup didn’t go unnoticed to him. 

“Y/N. Good to know, I’m Steve.” He offered her a hand to shake, and his sensitive hearing picked up the slight hitch in your breathing. It turned into a quiet sigh as Steve instead turned to pick up his order, which had just been completed.

He paused, wondering why that would happen, taking a glance around the shop. It was odd that you were so worried, and Steve doubted anyone would send a kid to get him, or poison him, especially one who was as unprotected as she looked. He supposed that she just didn't like to be touched. “If you’re not busy, would you like to join me?” he invited, motioning to an empty table. Maybe he’d be able to get some answers. “I don’t have anywhere to be for a while.” 

You blushed at invitation. A bright red color that made him even more confused until he realized how it could be interpreted. “Oh, I actually have to get going but I come past here pretty often, so maybe we’ll cross paths again. I hope you enjoy your mocha, Steve.” 

“Thank you, it was good talking with you,” he said kindly. She had been genuine, he could tell, as he watched as she unlocked a bike from a tree nearby without once glancing back. 

Steve exited the cafe a moment later, getting back onto his motorcycle and hoping his coffee didn’t get cold on the ride there. You were an enigma, that was for sure. He thought about how and why you had been so closed off yet so open during his ride home. Was it his looks? Steve knew that his built stature could be intimidating, and you were definitely a lot smaller than him.

He entered the tower and forced thoughts of you out of his mind as he exited the elevator into Tony’s lab. “I believe you owe me ten dollars,” he said as FRIDAY unlocked the door for him. 

Tony set down his tools. “Do I really?” Steve handed Tony the receipt. “Well, I don’t technically owe it to you until you drink it.” 

Steve shrugged, keeping his face neutral as he tried it. It was surprisingly good. He’d have to go back sometime to thank her. She had mentioned visiting frequently. 

For a moment, Tony didn't believe him. "Let me see that," he ordered. Steve set the drink on the table for him, watching with amusement as Tony removed the cap and took a sip. “Huh. Actually a mocha. Have you ordered a mocha before, Cap?” asked Tony, handing the drink back. “You should’ve told me.” 

“No, actually, I haven’t,” Steve admitted. “This was a recommendation.” 

“So you didn’t actually choose it, you had someone choose for you,” Tony pointed out, shelling out the cash anyways. 

Steve tucked the money into his wallet as he thought about you. “The agreement was that I could order it, not that I had to choose it.” 

“I know, which is why you have an extra ten dollars in your wallet right now,” replied Tony, picking up his tools again. “Need anything else?”

Steve shook his head, bidding goodbye to his friend as he took his coffee to his apartment.

“Bucky?” he called as he stepped off the elevator. “You in here?” 

“Bedroom,” his boyfriend replied.

Steve made his way over to the room they shared. Bucky had his own room, but more often than not, he ended up in Steve’s. “Have you ever tried a mocha?” Steve asked from the doorway, watching his boyfriend tug on a shirt. From the looks of it, he had just finished a shower.

“I’m not entirely sure, why?” replied Bucky, running a comb through his hair. After a trip to Wakanda, he had gotten most of his memories back, but some returned slower than others. The name sounded familiar, but it was possible he had simply overheard it once.

Steve entered the room properly and held out the coffee cup in his hands. “Because it tastes delicious.” 

“Smells like coffee,” said Bucky, sending his boyfriend a mildly questioning look. 

“It is. With chocolate. It tastes amazing, now try it,” urged the blond. 

Bucky sighed and took a sip. “Not bad,” he decided, taking another. No memories were joined to it, from what he could tell. “Do I get to finish this?” 

Steve shrugged, but Bucky caught the slight pout on his lips. “I mean, if you want to.” 

Bucky handed the cup back, not caring much for the drink anyway. He saw the way Steve smiled though, and that meant the world to him.

“So, why’d you get coffee?” questioned Bucky as Steve sat on the edge of the bed. He had no problem with it, but Steve didn’t go out that often, and coffee didn’t affect either of them. 

“Bet with Tony,” he explained, taking another sip of the drink. “He didn’t think I could order something that wasn’t a plain coffee.” And then you were there to recommend what to order. 

Bucky nodded in understanding as Steve’s eyes shifted slightly. “What’re you thinking about?” Bucky moved to lean against the headboard so that they were both resting on the bed. 

“Nothing,” said Steve, shaking his head. 

Bucky wasn’t fooled for a second. “Nice try, I know that look, babe. Something’s puzzling you.” 

“It’s nothing, really,” said Steve. “There was this girl at the coffee shop, though, a kid.” Bucky sent him another questioning look. “Well, not a kid, Peter’s age, maybe,” added Steve. “She was the one to recommend the drink, but… I dunno, something about her was just… She was definitely a civilian,” he told his boyfriend, before Bucky could worry. “And any type of person can exist in New York, you know that. She just left an impression, though,” he decided. He wasn’t sure how to explain how nervous she had behaved, and that it was somewhat endearing in a way. 

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say to that. He knew there was somehow more, but decided to drop it. Steve could make his own decisions, he had a right to some privacy, and Bucky respected that. “Alright.” 

“I think I’m going to learn how to make a mocha. That’ll be my morning drink from now on,” Steve decided spontaneously. “Want me to start making you a mocha in the morning?” 

Bucky, who had grown used to these spontaneous choices, looked at Steve with adoration. "If you want." 

Steve gave Bucky a peck on the lips before telling his boyfriend he was returning to the art studio to finish the canvas he had left behind earlier. 

It was only after he picked up his pencil that Steve realized he had never grabbed the snack he had actually left the studio for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it was neither Sam nor Bucky who placed the bet! Who would know the small shops in New York better than Tony I-Drive-Myself-Everywhere Stark? The man enjoys the best of everything, especially coffee. 
> 
> Dedicated to @every_marveler_ever for the enthusiastic comment (and also for being my first comment-er!). Also because I wouldn't have even _thought_ to write this chapter without that comment. So thank you!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter texts you.

The library at Midtown was never truly full, if only because it was so large. It was, however, fairly busy. Students were seated at tables and couches, a few groups even lounging on the floor. With the school’s focus on academics, the only time the library was empty was when it was closed.

You walked around, searching for Peter. It didn’t look like he was anywhere on the first floor. You took the stairs to the second floor nervously. You didn’t have his phone number or anything, so you couldn’t ask where he was. Hopefully he didn’t forget, he had been the one to set the date. Maybe you just got to the library before him? You hoped that was it. He’d find you if you waited… Right? Of course. So you sat down at a table that overlooked the first floor. You’d be easy to find if he did come. _When_. When he arrives. Positive mindset. 

You decided to get some extra work done as you waited. Your engineering sketchbook went with you everywhere. It was one of the most important objects in the world to you and housed every excellent project you had ever designed. You had even taped in pictures of final results for some of the projects, including the cup holder on your bike.

You flipped open to the most recent page, reviewing your notes so you could pick up where you left off. While you weren’t very interested in following celebrities, you still gave credit where it was due. And the Iron Man suit definitely deserved credit. Every time a new spec was added, you would jot it down and figure out how the ingenious Tony Stark must have done it. That said, you knew your sketchbook was dangerous. If it ever fell into the wrong hands, you would be at fault for a lot of problems. Or potentially arrested. Or both. All the more reason to never let it out of your sight.

Right now, you were working on how to fit a parachute into the armour. After War Machine’s fall, you supposed that he would have installed one. The placement you had decided on was proven wrong last week, when a photo had revealed the panel to be hiding weapons instead. Unless it hid both? That was doable, but not exactly the safest. You frowned, wondering how thick the suit was. If only you could see it in person. 

You took a glance at the library entrance, wondering where Peter was. It’d been a half hour already. He had been the one to set the time, too.

“Hey, Y/N.” Your head swivelled to face Peter as you slammed your sketchbook shut. He stood still as you took in his appearance. His hair was tousled and his face was flushed a bit, as though he had run there. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. And sorry I’m late, I had to stay after class to ask a few questions.” 

Midtown ran on a block schedule, and since it was a B day, you didn’t have class with him. “It’s fine,” you brushed off. “Have a seat. Um, do you have any idea of what you wanted to do for the project?” 

He slid his bag off as he took a seat. “It would be pretty cool to do Captain America.” Your face fell and he added hastily. “I mean, if you had something in mind that’d be cool, too. We don’t have to, it’s just- the internship with Mr. Stark means that I know the Avengers- I thought maybe we could interview him so that’d make the project cooler but if you had something else in mind…” 

You fiddled with your pencil. “It’s not a bad idea, Peter, it’s just that other groups might have the _same_ idea. To do Captain America as their topic, that is. Interviewing him sounds cool, and it’s awesome that you know the Avengers, but it just feels too… I don’t know, common.” You furrowed your brows worriedly. “Plus, we have to make something to demonstrate. I was thinking we could work on the development of technology but we’d have to get more specific. Technology has come a long way since the 90’s alone. A project that has to start all the way in the World War II era...” 

Peter nodded, pulling out a notebook and pencil. “I see where you’re coming from,” he agreed. “Mr. Stark would probably help if we did focus on technology, though. Hey, we could do the history of Stark Industries!” he said excitedly. 

“That’s what I was going to suggest,” you smiled. “It’s neat that you can count on all the Avengers like that. How’d you end up interning with Mr. Stark anyways?” 

He seemed a bit nervous. “Oh, uh, it wasn’t much really, he just took some interest in something I did- made. He uh, he thought that it was cool so we kind of teamed up, really.” 

You blinked twice. “Tony Stark sought you out?” 

Peter’s face immediately reddened. “I mean, sorta? Yeah, yeah, he did.” 

“What did you make?” you laughed in disbelief. “A new element?” 

Peter laughed, some of the color leaving his face to bring him back to his normal complexion. “No, um, it was a chemical mixture, really. It was made to be sort of like a rope, but it dissolves after a couple hours.” 

An impressed look crossed your face. “What’s he using it for? His Iron Man suit?” 

“No, it’s, uh, it’s for Spider-Man, actually,” he corrected. “I created- _helped_ to create his webbing.” 

Well that was something you did know. Spider-Man’s powers were artificial. Who would have guessed? “Oh,” was all you could say. 

“Yeah,” he replied. 

There was an awkward pause in which the two of you looked at each other, neither sure of what to say. 

“So, Stark Industries,” he said eventually. “My place of employment. Sort of. Currently.” 

You nodded. “We should start researching,” you said. “You know, general stuff about Stark Industries, when it all started, the likes. I’m not sure how much this library will have but maybe we could search online?” 

You both ended up agreeing to just compile some random, general facts about Stark Industries and work from there before leaving. You’d meet up in class tomorrow to discuss it, and hopefully no one chose the same topic. 

“One more thing,” you remembered as you readied to leave the library. You rifled through your bag for a sticky note. Grabbing a pen, you scratched your number on it. “Here. That way if you're running late or something you can just send a message.” 

"Really sorry about that," he apologized, taking the notecard as he realized what it was. "Hopefully it won't happen again." 

"Hopefully. I've really gotta go, though, so I'll see you tomorrow, I guess." Your father would realize your absence at home any time now, and the longer you were out, the worse it would get. That was the real reason you had asked off from work. 

After your goodbyes, the trip home seemed all too long. The train had been delayed by five whole minutes, in which your anxiety did nothing but compound. The lack of space on the train did nothing to help you relax. You stood tense. Every muscle you had was coiled like a spring. You hoped you didn't look odd as you got off at your stop and made your way home. Running home didn't help you feel any less worried. You could see your father's car from the end of the block as you turned the corner. A second later, your hands hit the pavement as you tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. 

"Damn it," you hissed. "Really? Dear old dad's already going to give me hell and I had to fall. What type of cursed luck do I have?" 

You pulled yourself off the ground and dusted your hands off on your now ripped jeans. "Great," you said sarcastically. "And now there's that to deal with." It was one of your favorite pairs too. 

He was sitting near the door when you unlocked it. "Where were you?" he asked without preamble. 

"Studying, sir," you answered shortly, expertly shutting the door behind you without turning. 

"Studying," he repeated. "You were studying for two hours?" 

"Yes, sir." Well, you were traveling for over a half hour, and Peter had been a half hour late, so really it was only about an hour. Your father didn't need to know that, though. 

He didn't seem to believe you. "With who? You can study perfectly fine here. Why didn't you? Where were you?" he questioned. 

"I was at the library, trying to find materials for a project," you answered shakily. "I was by myself." 

He grunted. A moment later, a fist greeted your face. “That was for staying out without my permission. Go get me another drink. And get dinner ready.” 

“It won’t happen again, sir,” you lied as you handed him a beer from the fridge. “I’ll have dinner ready in a half hour.” 

You washed your hands in the kitchen sink before touching your lip gently. You winced as your fingers made contact; it was definitely split. There was nothing for it though, it was what it was. You grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it in a paper towel to help with the bruising that would no doubt occur.

With that situation handled, you rifled through the pantry and fridge, pulling out some pasta and chicken. There was a half finished jar of pesto that you weighed in your hand. You might as well finish it, you decided. It joined the pasta and chicken on the counter as you shut the fridge. Then, you took out a pot and pan for the pasta and chicken respectively. You worked on cutting the chicken into bite size pieces and let them sear as the pasta cooked, adding the pesto in at the end. You served the meal into two plates before setting them onto the dinner table. After retrieving utensils, you left to call your father. 

“Dinner is ready,” you alerted him softly. He rose and entered the kitchen, sitting at his place on the table. You took the seat on the opposite end, like usual. 

Dinner was a quiet affair. He didn’t bother with small talk about work or school days. Not anymore, at least. You both ate, and after you were done it was your job to put away the dishes and clean the table. 

“We’re having company in two weeks,” he informed you suddenly, as he pushed away his plate. “And it’s important company, so you better do better than this.” 

“Who?” you inquired. It was rare your father ever invited someone over. 

“Three people,” he answered shortly. “Two adults and a boy that’s your age.” 

That was… unusual, you decided. “Understood, sir.” 

After doing the dishes you retired to your room. You rifled through your backpack to pull out your homework, sitting on the floor as you completed it. You also worked ahead on what you could, unsure if you’d ever have this much free time again. 

From somewhere on the right, your phone buzzed. And then it buzzed again. You picked it up to check what the notification was with a frown. You didn’t remember setting a reminder and your phone almost never buzzed for anything else. You didn’t exactly have the best social life. It was a text message from an unsaved number with a video and a caption. 

_I think I got our preliminary research done ;)_

_\- History Buddy_

The preview image of the video showed only a white tabletop, so you plugged in your earbuds and hit play. 

There were a few seconds of the camera getting set up. Your jaw dropped as the one and only Tony Stark appeared on the screen. “Hey, uh, Mr. Stark, sir?” called a voice in the background; Peter.

“What’s up, kid?” replied the engineer, looking up from his work. He set down his tools to give Peter his full attention. “Need help with something?” 

“Nah, nah, I’m good, actually, you can keep working, if you want. I was just wondering if I could ask you a question?” Peter entered the recording from the left of the camera. 

“Go for it,” shrugged Mr. Stark, turning his attention back to his project momentarily. He still faced Peter, though, and the tools remained down. You paused and pulled your phone closer to your face, wondering what he was working on. Unfortunately the angle of the camera didn’t provide much detail, and you resumed the video with mild disappointment. 

“Well, I was wondering when Stark Industries started up,” said Peter, leaning against a similar counter off to the side. A smile crossed your face as you realized what he was doing. 

“Howard Stark founded Stark Industries in 1940 to help with the war effort,” replied Tony. “Is there anything else?” 

“Uh, yeah, actually, I have a few more questions. What does the company do nowadays and what’s their current biggest project?” Peter looked like he was trying his best not to fidget as he asked. 

“Stark International’s got a lot of different divisions… We’ve got medical tech, personal devices, entertainment systems… Transportation,” listed Tony. “You’ll have to ask Pepper that other question though. She’s more focused on the company than I am. What’s with the sudden interest?” 

Peter started walking back to the camera, exiting the screen as he went around a table. “No reason, no reason. Just a history project on the company.” 

“A history project?” repeated Tony. “That wall is glass Pete, get off of it," he scolded for a moment, interrupting himself. "Anyways, need any help? There’s a display somewhere downstairs, I could show you if you want. I don’t really care for it, but it might help. When’s the project due? There’s another one in Miami, that one’s probably got some different stuff, I could fly you out if you want. Y’know if there’s time.” Wow, Mr. Stark was really willing to do a lot for Peter. Personally, you thought he should take up the offer. Miami sounded amazing.

“Oh, no, that’s fine, Mr. Stark, really, thank you. I’ll just check out the display downstairs. When is Ms. Potts getting back?” asked Peter, still out of the frame. 

There was a moment of silence. “Friday?” said Tony. 

For a second you thought that was the day she got back, until an Irish voice answered. “I believe Miss Potts will be returning on memorial weekend.” So a couple of weeks, then. 

“Cool, thanks, Fri. I’ll go check out that display you mentioned, Mr. Stark, I’m sure it’ll be super helpful!” Peter grabbed the camera then, and the video ended. 

_Cool :)_ you replied after taking out your earbuds. 

_Who’s Friday?_

You had just finished saving his contact when he texted back. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _That’s Mr. Stark's personal AI! Super cool, she can answer anything. Sometimes I ask her homework questions when I get stuck and no one else is around._

You wondered why Peter would have asked Tony the questions if Friday was available, but shrugged it off as a matter of convenience and personal interaction. _Neat._

There was a long moment in which no other notifications came through. _Tell me if the display is cool_

You set your phone down on your nightstand, not expecting a response for a while. 

“Y/N!” called your father as you turned back to your textbooks. “Go grab me another drink.” 

_Grab your own drink_. You wanted to tell him as you left your room reluctantly. 

You grabbed him a bottle of soda from the fridge, recycling the holding carton as it was emptied. He had probably drank enough beer for one night. He was sitting in front of the TV, his laptop propped up on one of the chair’s arms. You left the closed bottle within his reach and picked up the empty ones from around the room, along with their respective caps. You set them into the recycling bin, not keen on making a lot of noise. 

You returned to your study spot, eager to complete what you were working on and turn in early to see if you could get a couple extra hours of sleep. Your history work was complete for the day, as was your English daily assigned reading. Your physics packet was half done, so you chose to work on that next. Afterwards, you would get ahead on math. Then you would study for your mechanics class and after that you’d see to the project you were working on for your computer science class. You groaned as you remembered that you had French homework to do as well. Fantastic.

You took a break after thirty minutes of physics homework to check your phone. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _12 attachments, 1 message_ read the notification on your lock screen. 

You opened the chat to see what he had sent. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _It’s open to the public! You should come check it out._

You scrolled through the pictures, laughing quietly at some cliche tourist ones. You glanced up at your door, hoping your father hadn’t heard you. After a moment of silence and nothing but the TV in the background, you glanced back at your phone. 

**_You:_ ** _I just might. Is it open on the weekends?_

_Sorry for the late reply btw, doing hw_

His reply took a couple minutes. **_History Buddy:_ ** _It’s not :( I should probably do my homework too._

**_You:_ ** _:/ guess I won’t be able to visit anytime soon. The pictures you sent are great, though! And go do your homework, I’ll see you tomorrow._ :) you sent back.

**_History Buddy_ ** _**:** _ _Ok y/n! I’ll talk to you in class! Good night!_

“Ouch,” you hissed. You had forgotten about that stupid cut on your lip as you grinned. You settled for a small smile as you sent him a good night text back before setting your phone down. 

You definitely weren’t focused on the text for the rest of the night. Not at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you accidentally stay after class

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Happy friday! I'm so excited to post. I love writing this fic so much, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

"Hey, y/n! Whoa, what happened to your lip?" asked Peter the next day, taking the desk beside you. Seats had been rearranged since group work began, even though classes were still mostly instructional days. 

"I fell," you said, showing your still marked palms as evidence. A very convenient half-truth. "I'm pretty clumsy." 

"Oh, that sucks," he commented. "Well… we kinda already finished the beginning research part and decided what to focus on so I guess we don't really have anything to do right now." 

You nodded in agreement as Mr. Dell began taking roll call by group, asking for each group's topic as he went. You crossed your fingers, praying no one else picked Stark Industries. 

"Y/n and Peter Parker?" Mr. Dell glanced at the two of you. "Present, I see. Topic?" 

"Stark Industries, sir," you answered quietly. 

Mr. Dell wrote it down on the clipboard he was holding before explaining that the day was a research day. "Anyone who hasn't started researching yet should use this time now. If you have started, you can choose to study or use the time as you wish, but I expect a summary of what you find out by the end of the week," he said sternly.

You glanced at Peter with a thoughtful look on your face. "I'm gonna start looking into it a bit more, see what I can find on their website maybe. I'm not sure if there's anything more than what you found out yesterday, though." 

"Worth a shot," he smiled. "Hey, did you finish the physics homework?" 

You pulled the website up on your phone. "Yeah? How come?" you asked. You hoped he didn't want to copy it. 

"Do you want to compare answers? Later. Like, the end of the class maybe?" he offered. "We don't really have anything we need to do right now."

A relieved smile crossed your face. "That would be nice," you voiced. "How'd you feel about question 14? I was about to set my homework on fire because of it, I hated it so much," you complained. 

"Same! There were like, eight parts, it was ridiculous," he agreed instantly. 

You pulled out your purple history notebook, flipping to a new page to jot down some notes from the website before scrolling through the ones Peter sent. You chose a particularly goofy one to set as his contact image. "Did the employees look at you weirdly? Your co-workers, I guess?" 

"Eh, I think they're kind of used to me by now,” he shrugged. “It's fun. Happy - he's Mr. Stark's driver and sorta security guard, he picks me up sometimes. He's actually pretty serious - he tells me not to do stuff sometimes but usually no one really cares. I think they need something to spice their lives up, y'know?" 

No, not really. A part of you was worried he might get in trouble, but you didn't say anything about it, instead just smiling and nodding. 

The sound of conversation was replaced by you both studying. You took a glance at the clock occasionally, and fifteen minutes before the end of class you put your history things away. You pulled out your teal physics folder and the worksheet instead. 

"Um, Peter?" You held up the physics homework, offering it to him. "You wanted to compare answers?" 

"Oh! Oh yeah, yeah, thanks." He rifled through his bag for a bit, searching. For someone who was likely going to graduate valedictorian, you wondered how he could be so disorganized. He pulled up a slight crumpled packet victoriously, setting it side by side with yours on the desk. You watched nervously as he flipped through, bouncing your leg. 

"Oh?" he said towards the end, glancing between the pages. 

"Oh?" you repeated. "Is something different?" 

He shook his head. "Just a different equation, same answer. Yours has less work, though. Did we go over this?" He wondered aloud.

"Um, I'm not sure, which question?" You leaned over to see what he was pointing at, studying the paper intensely. 

"Oh," you said again. You had solved question 16 with a technique you had learned while working on your bike. "Um. I'm not sure to be honest. I found that equation after some personal study, but I think it's somewhere in the textbook." 

Peter had a finger on each packet, running down the page as he found similar numbers. "I mean, I can see where it came from I guess. It's pretty similar, just more efficient." 

Students began packing up around you two and he handed the packet back. "I'll see you in class later, maybe we'll learn about it," he smiled. You really liked his smile, you decided. You wanted to see it more often. 

"Yeah…" you said, packing up your things as the bell rang. You made your way to mechanics, wondering what updates you would be making to the cars as you entered the auto shop. 

Anna, a bubbly blonde girl in the year above you, moved her notebook as you walked in. The two of you were the only girls in that class and had quickly decided to stick together. She understood you didn't like to talk much, so she often filled the space with anecdotes about her runs; she was in cross country and track, a four year varsity letterman. 

Today's story was about a stick named Derrick. He was now the team's mascot after he was discovered blocking a path the morning after a big storm. Another girl named Selena took it home, spray painted it the school colors of blue and gold, and added matching ribbons. Derrick the Magical Stick was now living in the coach's classroom, on display in the corner if you ever wanted to see it. The plan was to bring him to every meet in the foreseeable future. The boy's team couldn't care less, but according to Anna they were just too lame. 

As the bell dismissed you to lunch, you made your way to the library, not bothering with the cafeteria or food. You wanted the best seat available. The cushy couch in the farthest back corner on the top floor. It had the best lighting and the most privacy and was highly sought after. 

You darted between people expertly, making your way through the building. The place you had come to recognize as your spot was still open and you rushed to take it, curling into the seat as you dumped your bag by the chair's base. Immediately you pulled out your sketchbook, flipping it open to a blank page. Reading about Stark Industries had given you a new idea, and you opened your phone to do the necessary research, cursing the fact that you didn't have a laptop. Perhaps the next thing to save up for.

Arc reactor technology. Powered by Palladium, primarily, and later an element Tony Stark sought to brand as Badassium, which you took humor in. Its official name remained undecided. 

You scoured the internet and a couple scholarly journals to see how the technology worked. You had never really put much thought into it, or wanting to create your own, but you realized that if you could get the calculations just right, you could build a phone battery you would never have to charge again. Or a laptop battery. Or a cordless TV. The possibilities were endless. 

After a mere ten minutes, you paused from your studying, needing to do something else with your hands. On a fresh page, you began to design a brand for what you thought the technology should have been called; STARC Reactors™. A very well thought play on the Stark Industries name, in your opinion. 

Meanwhile, your physics folder stared you in the face as you tried to decide what to focus on, and you wondered why it bothered you so much. Peter had made one comment, and he said you both had the same answers. Surely the teacher wouldn’t mark you down for something you had learned in your spare time, right? It was almost the end of the year anyways. 

You ignored the nagging feeling as you scratched out some more logos. After five or six designs, you found one that you loved. It was a mix of Iron Man colors and what you had deemed Arc Reactor blue. You didn’t have time to perfect it, however, as the bell rang.

Peter was sitting in his usual seat when you entered the physics classroom, and called out to you eagerly. “Y/n! You should come sit with us. Ned won’t mind, right Ned?” 

Ned smiled. You two knew each other from a computer class you shared in freshman year. He could be enthusiastic at times, but you both enjoyed building a little lego robot to drive around the classroom. “That third seat is normally empty anyways. More people, more fun, right?”

You took the seat with quiet thanks, not used to being greeted in such a way. You pulled out your teal notebook and matching folder. You set the physics worksheet from earlier at the top, flipping your notebook open to a fresh page. There was already a slideshow up on the projector, and you wrote the title and date of the lesson on the top of the page. 

Mr. Downey seemed surprised you had joined a group without being asked to. “I’m glad to see that you’ve joined your peers, Ms. y/l/n,” he said gently as he collected the homework from around the room. “I hope this becomes a permanent arrangement.” 

You nodded shyly, doodling some random scribbles on your paper as he walked off. “Hey, um, Ned? I um… I thought you wanted to go into computer science?" you asked nervously. 

"Yeah, I am. All the computer courses are math credits, though," he explained. "I needed another science credit to graduate. Peter was taking this so I signed up too." 

You nodded in understanding. It must be nice to have a friendship like that, signing up for classes just so you could try to be with each other, or otherwise to be able to study together. You had never been that close to anyone. It always seemed like you were the odd one out, no matter what group you joined. 

The notes for that lesson were focused on, oddly enough, the equation you had used for question 16. Every few slides showed another example problem, with step-by-step explanations following. 

“You really should join the decathlon team,” said Ned, working out one of the equations. “Since Peter dropped and Flash took his place, we’ve really needed another member.”

Peter had dropped AcDec? You didn’t know about that. Hadn’t he been trying to convince you to join just last week? You shot a questioning look towards Peter, who seemed apologetic. 

“Only temporarily. I’m back on the team now. I did say they could really use you,” he added sheepishly. “It’d be good to have another backup. I’m sure you’d get along well with MJ.”

“I already told Peter I’m too busy,” you told Ned, who seemed confused by the interaction. “It’s hard to manage school and a job right now, I don’t think I could add a club to the mix.” 

“That’s understandable. Peter dropped for the same reason,” said Ned, brushing it off kindly. 

You raised an eyebrow to Peter, glancing down at your paper to scratch out a few more numbers. “Weren’t you the one that suggested I find a new job?” 

“That’s a different situation,” he muttered. “Mine was temporary. You’ve had the same job for like three years.” 

“Consistency is nice,” you defended. “Besides, I need to pay for college somehow. Not everyone can land a high paying internship under Tony Stark.” 

“It’s unpaid,” he corrected. “Just experience.” 

Ned snickered as if he had found something funny, but you simply shook your head. 

“What’d you guys get for step four?” you said, bringing the focus back to class. “I got 16.”

Peter and Ned looked baffled. “You’re on step four?” Peter asked, looking between your notes and his own. “When did you get to step four?” 

“While we were talking…” 

“But we weren’t even talking for that long…” he said in quiet amazement. 

Ned had shaken himself out of his stupor. “Um, I’m still on step two, what’d you get for that?” 

Your eyes searched your page. “Um…. 408,” you answered. 

Ned nodded as the boys turned back to their notes, rushing to catch up as Mr. Downey gave the class a time warning to complete the problem. 

“I got 16 for step four,” confirmed Peter, a moment later. “I’m going to guess you’ve finished the problem by now, huh?” 

You shrugged, eyes wandering around the class as you waited. Mr. Downey caught your eyes and smiled, knowing you had already finished. He had deemed you as “one of the good kids” a long while ago. Not only that, he knew you loved physics. You had discussed with him last year, for some modifications you made on your bike among other things. Occasionally he gave you extra homework problems as a challenge; most of which had returned to his desk complete, others he had explained over lunch or study periods. 

Under the guise of checking how students were doing, he made his way around the classroom. “And how are we doing here, fellas and y/n?” he asked, placing his hands on the table. “Everything alright?” 

As Ned asked a clarifying question, Mr. Downey slipped you a notecard. You glanced at it quickly before tucking it into your notebook for later. Two questions. That was different. No matter, maybe he just wanted to give you an extra challenge before the school year was over. 

Mr. Downey made his way back to the computer at the front, revealing the answers to the question and finishing class with some reminders for the next class and the rest of the week. You packed up quickly, but Mr. Downey still called you back when you went to leave. You sat on one of the student desks as he leaned against his own. 

“Would it be too early to ask you to tutor?” he asked hopefully. 

You shrugged. “I just have a lot going on, Mr. Downey. And I don’t-” 

“Think you would be a good tutor, I know,” he finished, lips twisting disappointedly. His mood changed to a careful neutral after a moment. “I saw you sat with Peter and Ned today.” 

“Yeah,” you said, looking away. “Um… Peter’s my partner for a history project and he invited me to sit with him so…” 

He nodded. “I’m glad you’re making friends, y/n,” he said kindly. “You’ve been sitting alone at that back table all year. I didn’t say anything because you’re a great student, but it’s good to see you getting along with your peers.” 

Your cheeks tinged pink at the praise. “Thanks.” 

“I meant it,” he smiled. “You’re my best student, y/n. How’s the bike, by the way? Everything still in place?” 

“Oh, yeah! Well, mostly,” you grinned excitedly. “Remember a few months ago when I said I was working on the spokes of my bike and royally screwed up? Well, I fixed that, and I think I figured out the minimum number of spokes needed for my bike to stay up and in good condition, which is eighteen if you were wondering, but then I found these cool carbon fiber spokes, and they work brilliantly after some adjustments. So that brought it down to twelve, but sort of compromised the aerodynamics. Basically- can I borrow your whiteboard?” You were already uncapping a marker, your things remaining on the desk. 

“When have I ever said no?” he smiled. “What were you using before the carbon?” 

“Stainless steel, basically just used the spokes my bike came with and made adjustments to them so they can be rearranged. The carbon rods were like, three months’ worth of paychecks but totally worth it.” You had drawn a diagram as you spoke, writing out a few equations as you explained the logic behind your actions. Mr. Downey asked a couple questions as you went, making you slow down to explain how you got from point A to point C. 

“So? What do you think?” you finished, after losing steam. 

Mr. Downey laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Well, what’s it matter what I think? It works doesn’t it? I couldn’t have done better, kid, really.” 

You beamed at the praise, before realizing how much time had passed. “Shoot, I need to go,” you said. You never realized how much time had passed when you got talking about your bike to Mr. Downey. “Thank you so much for your time, Mr. Downey, see you Friday!” 

“Have fun with those problems I gave you,” he called down the hall as you ran. 

“I will, sir,” you shouted back, turning the corner quickly. If your dad didn’t kill you for being late, that was. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and Peter match.

You wiped your palms on your pants before fishing out your keys. Your hands were shaky and sweaty, and the rest of your body wasn’t doing much better. 

Once again, you opened the door to the apartment fearfully. 

He was seated in the same spot as the day before. “Studying?” he asked sarcastically. 

You gulped. “I- I was getting help from a teacher.”

“‘ _ I- I was getting h-help from a t-teacher _ ,’” he mocked, his voice a pitch higher. “Don’t stutter _. _ ” 

You forced your voice under control. “Sorry, sir.” 

“I’m sure you will be. Was this a male teacher? What type of help, huh? Just what were you doing?” The implications of his words left a sick feeling in your gut. Mr. Downey was never like that, none of your teachers were.

“It was physics. I had a question that I just wanted to get help with. That was all it was, sir.” A part of you knew it was useless. 

“Well, since you’ve had so much time to study, those grades should all be A’s, understood? And if you think studying is so important, you can do the rest of your homework in your room and then go to bed. Studying is more important to you than I am, huh? No love for your dad, you ungrateful bitch?” That was when he landed the first hit. 

“It’s not like that, sir,” you pleaded.

He yanked you up by your hair, knocking you against the wall as you cried out.You hoped the neighbors wouldn’t hear. “Did I give you permission to speak? Did I? No.” He gave you another hit, that time to the stomach, knocking the air out of you. “I warned you. I am your commanding officer. I said that you need my permission, and you went behind my back. This is your fault. You did this to yourself.” 

After a few more punches and another slam against the walls, he was satisfied you had been punished appropriately. “Go to your room and stay there for the rest of the night. I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” 

“Yes, Lieutenant. I’m sorry,” you gasped. 

“Now you are.” He kicked your bag into the kitchen, further from both you and your bedroom as you reached for it. Somehow, the action was what caused the first tears to pool in your eyes. Or maybe the pain was just catching up to you. 

You struggled over to your bedroom, wincing at every step. Your ribs were probably bruised, your face was likely going to bruise worse through the night, and life definitely hated you. You closed the door softly behind you when you managed to enter. You ditched your bag at the door. Finally laying on your bed, you felt a few tears stream down your face. 

He hadn't always been that bad. Your father had once been a kind man. He remembered every anniversary, every birthday, and every special event that his little girl had. He drove to pick his daughter up every day he could. He only drank at his friends' houses and brought home flowers and chocolate for his wife because he felt like it. 

Until one day, he couldn't. It was a hard loss when your mom died. What had killed her was so civilian it was difficult to accept. She was a Marine Corps veteran. It was a car crash. A skid on ice in the middle of winter. Both drivers died on impact, leaving only one survivor. You were ten, at the time, barely out of your booster seat and excited to go upstate to your family cabin. You had escaped the crash with a broken collarbone, a concussion, and some cuts from the glass, but nothing more damaging than that. Unless one counted the lifelong trauma. That was arguably very damaging. 

Your father had tried to be caring and patient, but he was spread thin. He had to raise you and pay the bills and he ultimately decided the bills were more important. You grew up learning how to cook, because otherwise you wouldn't get dinner. Your father began to drink more. He sent you out once to buy a few beers for him, before he realized that he could get into major trouble for it. 

The first time he hit you, he was drunk. 

He apologized immediately after, sending you to your room as he sobered up. He came in later that night, promising he'd never hurt you again. The next morning, you found your favorite candy and a new set of pencils on your desk. 

He forgot that promise in another drunken stupor. More apologies followed. Two days later, new gifts were left. A plush toy and some chocolate. 

By the time you were thirteen, he had stopped with the gifts. Probably because it was too expensive to budget them in. That same year, you began to study Tony Stark's Iron Man Suit. A suit that could protect oneself and provide a means to escape… you saw the appeal. You also picked up a job that year, trying to stay away from home as long as possible. 

When you were fourteen, he stopped apologizing entirely. You had applied for Midtown School of Science and Technology the year before, without his knowledge. He was far from the happy, proud parent most would have been. You had received a full scholarship through both a test and an essay, under the terms that your unweighted GPA stay above 3.8 on the 4.000 scale. You were accepted, though, and that was amazing. Even if your father was enraged over the fact, you couldn't have been happier.

The first time he had blamed you for your mom's death, you were fifteen. It was the five year anniversary. You had dismissed him as being too drunk to know what he was saying, but the words still cut deep. 

That year was also when you became aware of the Armed Forces' use of technology existing under the name War Machine. By now you were old enough to understand that what your father had once dismissed as childish imagination had become a very dangerous thing. There were actual calculations, scale drawings, notes, and measurements. You vowed not only to never let your father see them, but to hide them away from everyone else as well. 

You had tried to change focus. You bought an old bike to fix up so that you could spend even more time outside and have means of transportation. You toyed around with your phone, newly bought at the time. The distractions didn't work well, as you eventually ended up giving in to the compulsion of the Iron Man suits. Instead you worked to hide your sketchbooks. Finished ones were hidden in the back of your closet, locked securely behind a pile of old pajamas you never wore. 

It was only recently that your father began to blame you for his actions. He started finding reasons to hit you. It started the first time you had worn make-up. He said that if you wanted to cover your face like that, he'd give you a reason to. Before that, he had avoided hitting your face. Suffice to say you learned quickly how to cover a bruise. 

And now you were here, thinking over what he had said in the hall. Tears had been soaking your pillow quietly for what must’ve been hours when your phone buzzed. It was still in your backpack, meaning that you would have to get up to check it.  You had every intention to ignore it completely when it buzzed again. And again. There were very few people who had your number: your co-workers, your father, and Peter.

Figuring that you really couldn’t afford to be fired, you forced yourself to check your phone. Just in case. You pulled the device out of your backpack before returning to the bed.  There were 3 notifications, which you had expected. 

**_History Buddy_ ** _ 1 attachment, 1 message _

**_Great Scott_ ** _ 1 message _

You opened the text from your boss first.  _ Lauren just called in sick, can you pick up her shift tomorrow? - Jeff _

**_You:_ ** _ 5:30 to 10, right?  _

**_Great Scott:_ ** _ Yes  _

**_You:_ ** _ I’ll be there!  _ The message sounded far more enthusiastic than you felt. 

**_Great Scott:_ ** _ Thanks, y/n, see you then.  _

You exited the chat and checked what Peter sent. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Now we match!  _

The image he sent was a selfie, a wry smile showing off his cut lip and bruised chin. Your puffy y/e/c eyes widened. 

**_You:_ ** _ ??? That’s not a good thing??? Are you ok? _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ It’s alright! I fell too. My chin is pretty bruised though, how come your chin isn’t bruised?  _

_ Makeup _ , you replied shortly. You were tired, after the emotional roller coaster of the day. You were also hungry, not having had anything since a granola bar for breakfast that morning. Mostly, though, you just wanted to sleep. 

Your phone buzzed, forcing your eyes open again.  **_History Buddy:_ ** _ Should I ask the Black Widow if I could borrow makeup? _

You blinked tiredly. That idea sounded both hilarious and incredibly stupid.  _ Do you think she’d let you?  _ you sent back, letting your phone rest on your chest as your eyes fluttered shut. 

* * *

You awoke some time later in the darkness of your room. Your phone was still laying on your aching chest as you checked the time. You dismissed a low battery notification with one hand, reaching with the other to get the wire from between the wall and your bed. 

It was half past two in the morning. You glared at your screen and turned down the brightness. Peter had sent several more messages. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ I’m not sure. Let’s find out.  _

_ She said maybe. And she asked why _

_ I told her  _

_ She’s teaching me how to do makeup now! _

_ She wants to know who I’m texting, do you wanna say hi?  _

_ Y/n??? You there?? You should call me! You can say hi to Nat!  _

_ Here’s a picture of me with makeup!  _

You tapped on the picture. Peter had actually been wearing makeup, and not just a basic concealer either. It seemed he had decided to go all out. Highlighter, contour, even eyeshadow and eyeliner. 

_ Beautiful _ . You replied with a yawn.  _ That’s really pretty eyeshadow.  _

You weren’t expecting Peter to still be awake.  _ Thanks! She let me pick the colors out myself :) Follows the spiderman theme.  _

You took a second look, realizing that it did.  _ Y r u up? _ You texted back lazily. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ You’re the one who texted me so late. _

_ Why are YOU up?  _

You rolled your eyes, quickly regretting the action after the ache it caused.  _ I woke up because my phone was dying. Fell asleep while you were getting your makeup done, sorry _

_ Your turn _

He took a while to reply, and you thought for a moment that he fell asleep too. You certainly wanted to. Your phone buzzed as you moved to set it down. 

_ Mr. Stark was letting me work late in the lab with him.  _

That was weird, you decided.  _ It’s half past 2 a.m??? _ You sent, instead of telling him your opinion.  _ Minors aren’t legally allowed to work past ten on school nights. _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Please don’t get Mr. Stark into trouble _

_ My Aunt May knows I’m here and she’s out on a business trip so I’m staying with Mr. Stark.  _

_ So he’s my temporary guardian and that means the rules are different, right? _

_ I promise this doesn’t break any child labor laws. He’s not forcing me to do anything. _

* * *

At the tower, Peter hung upside down, waiting for y/n's reply. Maybe he shouldn’t have said he was working late with Mr. Stark. Peter hoped he wouldn’t get his mentor into any trouble. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ I feel very under accomplished right now.  _ Peter frowned, but an explanation came moments later.  _ I’m here working a just-over-minimum-wage job for 20 hrs/wk and you have an internship with Tony Stark and live with the Avengers part-time. Totally different lives _

Oh. Well… That was not what he had been expecting. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to reply. He didn’t want to stop the conversation, though. He had just got back from patrolling and wanted to sleep but the night had been going so well. Well, other than staining his mask with makeup. 

He must have been thinking for too long because he received a third text.  _ Anyways, it’s chill. I’m going back to bed tho, good night. _

Peter flopped down onto his bed from where he had been hanging, feelings of guilt and regret pooling in his stomach. He didn’t honestly know what y/n had accomplished, other than a few projects that had been put on display over the years. He didn’t really know much about her at all. He crawled under his covers with a disappointed sigh, promising himself that he would learn more about y/n. He wouldn't let her get down on herself like that again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about the addition of Peter's POV and if I should let it be or go back to it just being Steve's POV and Reader's POV! 
> 
> Thank you all for the excellent comments and feedback so far. I always love getting notifications from AO3 about kudos and/or comments on my work. It means so much to me :-)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you cannot focus on your schoolwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ha ha! you know what time it is... Time for another Chapter!  
> This chapter admittedly feels a little like a filler and I'm sorry for that, but it's supposed to help show what a "normal" day would be like when you don't see Peter. And there's some important information that's just casually blended into here. It's really chill and there's not much action, but the vital information will play a role much later >:)

_Beep. Beep. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEE-._ Your blaring alarm clock woke you up that morning. You snoozed it, wanting to rest your aching body for five more minutes. Laying in bed, you took stock of your injuries. Your face was still a little puffy and your chest was sore. _Cold water_ , your mind supplied. _A cold shower will help._

You dragged yourself out of bed as your alarm started again. You needed to take a quick shower before your father awoke. You carelessly grabbed a towel and some clothes; a shirt, a thin sweater, and a pair of pants. Clothes to hide your body.

Your father was snoring loudly from his bedroom as you walked to the bathroom. You shut and locked the door quietly. You set your things on the sinktop before brushing your teeth. 

You inspected your reflection in the mirror over the sink. The left side of your face was varying shades of blue and purple, but at least he hadn’t given you a black eye. You should’ve thought to put some ice on it the night before, but you couldn’t go back in time.

After that, you stripped down and stepped into the shower. You didn't need a mirror to know how bruised your ribs were.

You carefully turned the water on as cold as you could manage as you stood under the spray. The chill forced your spine straight and you barely resisted turning the water warmer. You showered as quick as you could, which was incredibly slow given your injuries. Afterwards, you towelled down. Then, you yanked on your clothes. 

You left the bathroom with your laundry in hand, as quiet as you had been when you entered. Your father would be awake soon. You tossed the pile of clothes you held into the hamper before heading to your mirror. 

First thing you needed to do was apply a color corrector. Next came concealer. Your eyeshadow was plain, kept to a natural look along with the rest of your makeup. You just needed to look normal, nothing extravagant. Finally, you finished the look with a slightly tinted lip balm, taking care not to aggravate the cut on your lip. 

After fifteen minutes spent on your makeup, you stared at your bag hatefully. You ended up dragging it to the kitchen instead of pulling it on. Not sure what to make with what little time you had left, you opened the freezer, chucking a half a bag of frozen fruit into the blender after a quick rinse. You debated for a moment whether to add milk or juice, and you ended up deciding that the milk would go bad if it didn’t get used and poured some in the blender. A handful of washed spinach and a bit of sugar later, the blender was whirring loudly. Your father would certainly wake up now if he hadn’t already.

You pulled out two travel cups; a plain one for your father and a quoted one for yourself. Yours was clear, reading _Good Morning is an Oxymoron._ in black script. You poured his out first, leaving it on a coaster for when he finally decided to leave. You left the cap off so he wouldn’t mistake it for coffee. With that in mind, you also started the coffeemaker. He could get some for himself if he so desired. 

After pouring your share of smoothie into your cup, you made space for the blender in the fridge. Then, you looked at your next problem. Your backpack. The deep breath you took made your ribs twinge. This would not be an easy feat. _I should buy a messenger bag._ you thought. One quick movement. It’d be fine. _I hate my life. Ow, ow, ow, ow. Ow._ You grit your teeth but made no sound.

You didn’t bother with a goodbye as you left. You had your key and all your things. The smoothie was in one hand and you locked the door with the other. Your dad would not be happy if he found out you left without locking the door. 

You made your way down the stairs painfully, forcing yourself to go faster so you wouldn’t miss your train. You didn’t need the accusation of skipping school on your plate. Thankfully, though, you made it on time. You even got a seat. 

You sipped your smoothie as you walked into the building. It was another B day. Just the way you started every day in second semester, you entered the lab for your comp sci class and got seated at the desk. You were currently working on developing your project from last semester, a program that would take down firewalls methodically and leave an opening to receive any new information. You had run it on the school data system at the end of last semester with little success and a lot of trouble, resulting in the addition of a new rule to the student handbook. The goal was that you were allowed in without detection. You needed to get in through a window, not by kicking down the door. 

What you were struggling with was keeping that window open. You’d run the program through a simulation several times, with the same results. It’d get down to the second wall and fail moments after. You were trying everything to get it to stay up, but the simulation program always sent out an alert that you were breaking in, the same way any half decent protection system would. You hated it. 

After another class period of failure, you left for your english class, where you spent your time analyzing some assigned chapters with a group. You didn’t contribute much, but you put in the necessary amount needed for it to be considered group work. 

For the third block, you had Mechanics, the early lab session, where you listened to Anna complain about the heat as you shared work on an engine with a group of boys. She also mentioned that she had made it to sectionals, which were being held upstate that weekend. You wished her the best of luck, knowing that it would be the first story she would share when she came back. 

Fourth block was your study period, and you rushed towards your library seat as class dismissed. You had split lunch, meaning your block was technically interrupted by lunch in the middle, but you didn’t really care. Who needs lunch anyways? You would much rather spend your time on other important things. Like catching up on homework or working out your latest problem in your sketchbook.

Sometime during what you knew would have been your lunch, someone came around the shelves, likely searching for a book for a project. You weren’t surprised as you took out some paper to work on. It was, after all, a library. Every few minutes though, you turned back, feeling like the person was actually watching you. 

You ignored the nagging sensation as you scratched out solutions for a mechanics assignment you had received earlier that day, which ended up taking you half the study hall to complete. Tired with the work, you considered cracking open a book, but instead rose from your chair and packed up your belongings. Someone was definitely watching you.

“MJ?” you asked as you turned the corner. “I… wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 

“Yeah, got bored, just looking around,” she said. 

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Looking around at the section of group reading books that teachers checked out for classes? A highly unlikely story. “Uh huh. I’m not joining AcDec,” you said bluntly.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she replied flippantly. “You should come and eat lunch with us sometime, though.”

“The decathlon team?” you asked. That would be awkward since you weren’t a team member. She was really pushing it if she was trying to convince you to join.

“Nah,” she answered, pushing back a curl. “Me and Peter and Ned. They keep talking about you.” 

Your heart dropped. They talked about you? “D- do they? What about me?” 

“Chill, they’re not spreading rumors or anything. Something about how you’re a genius, though. They sounded jealous."

You shrunk down on yourself. “Oh.” You’d have to try and slow down in class. Maybe it would be better if you went to your own table again. “Well, thanks for telling me.” 

“I know your situation,” said MJ as you slinked past her. 

You froze, your head snapping back. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Just that being the loner isn’t fun. The invitation stands. Come down to the cafeteria sometime,” she shrugged. “Besides, every once in a while someone says something dumb and you’ll overhear it. It’s pretty fun.” 

“I’ll consider it,” you told her insincerely. “Thanks. I have to go, though.”

“Have fun,” she wished you as you finally turned to leave. 

In your Calculus class, you couldn’t focus. Instead of taking notes on the lecture, you pulled out the notecard Mr. Downey had given you in physics, working out the first question distractedly. Physics made you think of Peter and Ned, though, and you pushed it away in favor of your sketchbook. 

You flipped past notes on the arc reactor and suit, instead searching for notes on your sketchbook. Literally notes about your sketchbook. A voice activated magnetic locking system, _extremely_ high tech and even more expensive. You needed a more low key way to lock it though, you couldn’t go around muttering random words every day. Well, you could, but it was inconvenient. Along with that, you only had the money to install it on a couple of notebooks. So far it was only an emergency measure, but you needed to make a precautionary measure. That way you could lock it every time you closed it. Maybe a fingerprint scanner? That could work. 

You sketched out how it would work on a new page, making notes on the programming you’d have to write and the materials you would need. Maybe it could distract you from your firewall program in your computer science class. You continued working until the dismissal bell. It could wait until the weekend. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you meet James.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short chapter, but I managed to get everything I wanted out of it so I'm okay with that. It's a little fluffy, if I'm being honest. Just a tiny bit of Stucky fluff. It makes me happy, so I hope it does the same for you!

It was Sunday afternoon and Steve was playing with his pencil indecisively before finally setting it onto the table. It made a slight click as it made contact. 

“Hey, Buck?” he spun around to face his boyfriend, who was reading on their couch. 

Bucky flipped to the next page casually. “Yes?” 

“I’d like to go out for coffee,” said Steve, rising from his chair. 

Bucky looked up from his book. “Then go out for coffee,” he said obliviously, waving the book slightly.

Steve sent him a look that read  _ seriously? _ before saying “I’d like to go out for coffee  _ together _ .” 

“Alright, fine, punk. I’ll go get my jacket.” Bucky folded down the corner of the page he was on and set it beside his place. “We have plenty of coffee here, though.” 

“Yeah, well, it’d be nice to go out for a bit. We’ve been in the tower all day.”

The truth was, Steve wanted to visit that small coffee shop he had gone into the week before. The girl he’d met had made an impression, and Steve found himself wanting to chat with her for longer. She had mentioned that she visited frequently. Steve took that to mean he wasn’t the only one who wanted a good conversation. 

He tossed Bucky’s keys over as his boyfriend finally exited, grabbing the keys to his own bike right after. 

“Are we going to that coffee place you and Stark bet on?” asked Bucky, as they took the elevator down. 

“Yep,” answered Steve. “You can tell me what you think when you realize I wasn’t being dramatic about the number of options.” Tony had mentioned the bet as the team was eating dinner, and Steve had told the others about the store. He had only told Bucky, however, about the odd girl who had helped him choose.

Bucky shook his head. “It’s just coffee, I’m sure it couldn’t be that bad.” 

Steve sighed, giving his boyfriend a peck on the lips before getting on his bike. He would see it when he got there.

* * *

You had left to study around four in the afternoon, after the apartment had been cleaned entirely. It was a normal sunday. You were seated at a corner table of King’s Brew, with your books spread out on the table in front of you, periodically requesting refills as you flipped through your notes and readings. You would take a glance around your surroundings when you got bored. 

You made your way through another math problem pain-stakingly. After almost an hour, you had finally solved it. It probably wouldn’t take you so long if you had actually taken notes during the lecture. You pushed away the textbook with a huff. The rest could wait. 

You ignored the jingle of the bell as you shoved your math things into your bag, considering the merits of working on your physics homework. Your attention shifted as someone called your name. Steve was standing nearby, with the same cap and jacket as the time before. 

“Hey... how’s it going?” you asked as he approached. He kept a reasonable distance between you two, meaning you weren’t trapped in the corner. You could leave, if you wanted. “Here to try something new?” 

Steve had an easygoing smile on his face. “No, actually, here with my boyfriend. Wanted to show him all the options.” He hooked a thumb behind him to a man who looked as lost as Steve had been last week. He was equally tall and muscular and seemed much more like the quiet type than his counterpart.

You froze for a second, remembering what you had thought last Sunday, when he invited you to talk. He  _ definitely  _ wasn’t hitting on you then. “Oh.” Belatedly realizing that it could be interpreted badly, you added, “Okay, cool. Do you think he needs any help choosing?” 

“Eh, he told me I was being dramatic when I told him about my dilemma last week,” shrugged Steve, smiling at his partner. “I think he can choose on his own.”

You felt sorry for the man. “He’s so focused,” you said quietly. “It’s just coffee.” 

“Eh, he’ll be fine. See? What’d I say?” The man had finally walked up to the counter, looking decisive. “He’s fine. Uh, do you mind if we join you? You looked like you were getting ready to leave earlier?” 

You glanced at your bag and then around the shop.“I don’t mind, I needed a distraction from studying, anyways. There’s a bigger table over there, though, by the window, it might be more comfortable?” As friendly as he seemed, you still didn’t want to be trapped in a corner with two men you had just met. 

“Sure,” smiled Steve. He made eye contact with his boyfriend before gesturing towards the table. The new man shot you a questioning look that made you shrink in on yourself a bit, but he turned towards the table anyways. 

You shouldered your bag, ignoring the slight twinge of your still-healing ribs, and grabbed your coffee mug, a travel cup that read  _ I’m not everybody’s cup of tea, but I drink coffee so fuck them _ , before making your way to the table. 

“Hi,” you said as you set your things down opposite of Steve and the dark haired man. “I’m y/n.” 

“James,” he said with a nod. So, not a very touchy person either. Good. You could handle that. 

“Y/n is the one who helped me last week, to pick out a drink to win the bet,” Steve explained. 

“Ah,” said James. “Thank you. He probably would’ve been out all night trying to choose.” 

“It was nothing, really,” you said sheepishly. “I’ve tried everything this place offers… well, everything I’m allowed to drink,” you realized. “They’ll actually card you if you try and order an irish coffee or anything like that.” 

“Interesting,” said James, looking mildly amused. “Never had someone order for you?” 

“Are you offering?” you laughed lightly, rolling your shoulders against the pain in your chest.  _ Act normal _ , you reminded yourself,  _ you’re in public. _

“Depends. I’ve had my share of help, just passing the torch to a new generation.” 

“Bu-” Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. “But you won’t; I won’t let you because that’s  _ illegal _ .” 

“I’d say no, anyways,” you smiled, sipping from your coffee. “Besides the fact that underage drinking is a bad idea, I still have to bike home.” And the guy definitely looked like he could drug your drink when you weren’t looking. Not that he looked like he would, but he definitely could, what with the black leather jacket in the middle of spring. He had on biker gloves too, though, so it might have just been a protection thing? You couldn’t blame him for that.

“You can’t even get drunk from an irish coffee,” said James. 

“No,” said Steve sternly, giving James a look. “ _ You _ can’t get drunk, which doesn’t mean that someone else can’t. She’s underage.”

You watched awkwardly, not wanting the couple to argue over it. “Okay, so, no irish coffee, uh, that’s  _ fine _ , I don’t want one, anyways. I’ve been planning for my high school years to be alcohol free and also my dad is really strict  _ and _ a cop, so that would be bad for all involved parties.” 

“Shit, you’re in high school?” asked James, eyebrows furrowing a bit. “You’re really a kid?” 

“Language,” scolded Steve neutrally. It seemed more like a habit than anything else. You carefully shifted your hands on your cup anyways. 

You nodded, a tight smile on your face. “Uh, yeah, I guess. 16. Still got a couple of years to go until college. Anyways, um, enough about me, how’d you two meet?”

They shared a moment of silent communication before Steve began. “Well, we met in middle school and became best friends. After a while, we realized we wanted to be something more-”

James interrupted, clapping his hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “What type of a story...” he muttered. “I found his punk ass getting beat up in a back alley and ten years later he was dared to give the best first kiss I ever had. That’s what he means.” 

You covered your mouth, for it had fallen open in gleeful shock as James’ incredibly Brooklyn accent came out. That was certainly one way to tell a tale. “Oh? Okay then. I must say, Steve, you should leave the storytelling to James next time…” 

Steve was giving James a look that you couldn’t quite read. “Yeah well, I’ve been told my talents lie better in drawing, anyways.” He clutched James’ hand tightly and you looked away from the endearing scene. 

From the window beside you, you realized the sun was about to set. Your watch showed it was already 8:20. Your father would be home in a little over a half hour, which meant you needed to leave. Immediately. 

“I didn’t notice how late it was getting,” you commented, glancing back at the lovebirds. “It was great talking with you both, but I have to go. Sorry.” 

“The pleasure is ours,” replied Steve cordially as you stood, snatching your bag up as you did so. 

“If you need some coffee suggestions, like I said last time, I come around here pretty often,” you said. You had one last thought before you turned. “Before I leave, though, you never mentioned if you liked the mocha…”

James was the one to answer. “He wouldn’t shut up about the mocha,” he said. “He made me buy him another one.” 

Steve held the paper cup in his hand in a mock toast. 

“Glad to hear it,” you smiled. “Hope you enjoy your week.”

James didn’t quite return the look. It was more like a smirk as he said “You too.” Still, he had ended the conversation with more expression than you had seen him wear the entire discussion. They were a nice couple. They certainly looked well matched. 

You set your cup in the cupholder and unlocked your bike. It was time for you to get home. 

* * *

Bucky and Steve watched y/n pedal away from the shop. 

“That conversation barely lasted five minutes,” pointed out Bucky. “And she looked terrified, poor kid. Think she’s actually going to be back here next week?” 

Steve considered it, staring at the corner she had disappeared around. She had been in pain, he noticed. Small, almost imperceptible flinches when she moved or laughed. A part of him wanted to know if she was okay. “Yeah, actually. She came this week, didn’t she?” 

“She probably wasn’t expecting to see you, Steve,” theorized Bucky. “I’ll admit, the coffee is good, but it’d be better to leave her alone.” 

Steve frowned. Bucky had a point. He may have been scaring y/n, and given what she had said about it being her favorite coffee shop, he’d really hate to be the reason she stopped visiting. 

“Well,” he sighed. “I guess you’re right. Now… Why don’t we get back to our date?” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “So this is a date now?” 

“I don’t see why it can’t be,” said Steve lowly. “After all, I heard something about an amazing kiss…”

Bucky eyed his boyfriend, taking in both the look in his eyes and his husky tone of voice before giving him a once over. “What else have you got planned for this date, Stevie? It’s a Sunday.” 

Steve smirked. “I thought you gave up the church when we went to that rally in ‘35… Y’know, the one where you cursed out a priest? But I can change my plans if you didn’t.” 

“No, I definitely did,” said Bucky quickly. “Although, I hear today’s churches are a lot more tolerant. And it might be best if we both finished our coffee first.” 

“Yeah, I wonder who’s gonna be the first to finish.” Steve laughed as Bucky choked. “I meant the coffee.” 

“Mmhm. The coffee.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha ha Steve... I all enjoyed the chapter, I love reading the comments you all leave :) Thank you for all the kudos as well! Many of you have expressed wanting to leave more and, even though I know the feeling, it's hard to believe people feel that way about MY fic.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you and Peter study.

It appeared that you and Peter had established Tuesdays as study days, as you both agreed to travel to the library after class. 

“You’re really good at physics,” he complimented as you stopped by your locker. 

That was sudden, you thought, peering around your locker door humoredly. “Um… Yeah, I guess?”

“No, really, you’re really good at physics,” he repeated. “You work through problems like they’re nothing. I wish I could do that.” 

You shut your locker, a sheepish smile on your face. “Thanks, but I just have a lot of practice. I started doing this stuff last year, like I said, a bit of personal study. I'm sure if you spent as much time on mechanics as I did you'd be the same way." 

"I spend plenty of time on it! Well, not really," he reconsidered. "Mr. Stark does all the really important stuff, he lets me mess around with some small stuff. Mostly my web-shooters." 

"Your what? Web-shooters?" 

His eyes widened as he stuttered an excuse. "Spider-Man's, I mean, like, the ones I designed, not my web-shooters, really, his, my design. Mr. Stark lets me mess around with them so it just slipped. Not my web shooters.” 

That… made sense, you supposed. “Because you’re the one who made the webbing, the reason why Mr. Stark…” You searched for a word that would aptly fit the description. “Recruited you, I guess. Hired! That’s the word.” 

Peter’s voice rose an octave as he replied “Right.” 

Pushing off the odd feeling you got from Peter’s behavior, you made your way to an empty table near the nonfiction area of the library. It was probably just a slip of tongue. There was no way he was Spider-Man. “So, let’s talk about the demonstration part of the project.” 

Peter took a seat across from you, swinging his bag onto the ground. “Yeah, I was thinking about that. There’s so much to choose from. What are you thinking of?” 

You shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe we could choose something from the Stark Expo?” 

Peter pulled a laptop from his bag. It looked like it was held together with duct tape, but you didn’t judge. An old laptop was better than none at all. “Why don’t we look?” 

He shuffled his seat over so that the laptop faced the corner and you could both see it as he typed  _ Stark Expo _ into the search engine. You tried not to blush at the close proximity.  _ Just a project, y/n. _ “There wasn’t ever actually that much he made shown, though, according to Mr. Stark.” 

You smirked, knowing the exact reason why Stark creations weren’t demoed as frequently as one would think. “Of course not, but as much as I’m sure  _ many  _ would love to see it, I am not bringing a... missile, grenade,  _ whatever  _ to class, Peter.” 

“I wasn’t suggesting that!” he exclaimed. You shushed him quickly as you received looks from around the library. “Sorry, sorry. I  _ wasn’t  _ suggesting  _ that, _ " he hissed. "Mr. Stark really doesn’t like weapon stuff. I think he’d actually fire me if I said something like that.” 

You huffed a laugh before looking through the first website he had clicked on. “Wait, wait, wait, go back up,” you said as he scrolled past something that had caught your eye. “Model of a model flying car?” you suggested. 

He read through the description quickly. “It says here that the car didn’t even work,” he said. “Howard Stark showed it off for the first time in 1943 but it never reached the consumer market.” 

“Exactly- so ours definitely won’t  _ have  _ to work. Besides, we could make a little version and fly it around class if we actually figure it out,” you smiled at the idea, turning to Peter mischievously. “Mr. Dell can’t discourage such hard work, can he?”

Peter shook his head. “You’re…” 

“A genius?” you suggested. 

“I was going to say ‘devious,’ but sure, that works,” he teased, clicking on the image to enlarge it. “I wonder if we can find out more, this site barely has anything.” 

You leaned in closer, inspecting the duct-like mechanisms of the so-called Hovercar. “I wonder where he went wrong,” you thought aloud, tilting your head slightly. “Or what he got stuck on. Howard Stark was  _ The Mechanic _ of the 20th century, if anyone could make a flying car then, it would have been him. Even without a demand for it.” 

If Peter was surprised by your enthusiasm, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, he merely agreed. “I wonder what happened to the model,” he added. “It’d be cool to go see it, don’t you think?” 

“Definitely,” you agreed. “Maybe it’s in Miami. You should totally get Mr. Stark to fly you out there,” you joked. “He did offer.” 

“Nah, I don’t really wanna. He might need me for something. You could go though,” he offered. 

You shook your head quickly. “Nope. No thank you. I am way too busy for a weekend to Miami. I’d rather go to central park or something.”

“Is it that job? They seriously shouldn’t work you so hard,” said Peter, twisting in his seat to face you. “Weren’t you just telling me about child labor laws the other night?” 

You rolled your eyes behind closed eyelids with a tired sigh. “Peter… nothing illegal is going on. My father’s a cop, he’d probably get my boss into major trouble if I worked more hours than what’s legal or was paid any less than minimum wage. I’m just… busy,” you finished lamely.

Peter grumbled something you couldn’t catch under his breath in response. 

Brushing it off nervously, you checked the time. It was nearing when you wanted to leave, and an extra few minutes to walk down to the subway would be better than rushing. “I think we’ve studied enough for the day. What are you thinking we should get done between now and next time?”

Peter gave a noncommittal shrug. “Figure out how the car was set up, I guess. See what we could do to replicate it.” 

You nodded. “Sounds like a plan,” you voiced as you put your things together. “I’ll see you in class.” 

“Yeah,” he replied as you stood. “Same time next week, right?” 

That reminded you, you hadn’t told him yet. You kept both hands on the chair you had just pushed in as you informed him. “Actually, my dad is having a business dinner and wants me home early that day. So the next time we can meet up like this is actually after memorial day.” 

“But that’s -,” he began. 

You tried to control the flinch that ran through you by tightening your grip on the chair back. “Two weeks away, I know, I know, I’m sorry. We could find another day, but if Tuesdays are your only free weekday then that’s the next time we can meet. We- We could try for the weekend?” you suggested meekly. 

“I was just going to say that Tuesday is a development day, right after Memorial Day.” He made a face as he contemplated your idea. “What if we just moved it to next week Thursday?” he proposed. “Does that work?” 

“I’ll check with my boss,” you responded. He gave a disappointed shake of his head. “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

He sent you a small smile. “It’s fine. Worse comes to worse, we could just call or text, right?” 

“Right,” you confirmed. “I should get going before I miss my train.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in class,” he bade. 

Once you were out of the library, you began to think aloud. “Way to go, y/n, that could not have gone any worse,” you muttered sarcastically. You kicked a rock on the sidewalk out of the pat as you made your way to the station. Luckily your train was on time, and from the looks of it, you’d get home at the time you had told your father. 

_ Busy _ . You had told Peter. You were  _ busy _ . You had a job. You had to help your father keep the apartment in shape.  _ Busy _ . 

_ Controlled _ . That seemed like a more fitting word. You were  _ controlled _ . You had little time for hobbies. Your father made you work, cook, clean, and study. He demanded your attention at every possible moment.  _ Controlled _ . 

You wondered, as you entered your apartment, when the two words had become synonymous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is like, pt 1 of 3 chapters that all occur within the time span of 1 day... really short, but there's more to come.   
> Thank you all for the kudos and amazing reviews, a smile makes its way across my face every time AO3 sends me an email. <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony Stark records a video.  
> OR  
> In which Peter Parker has tacos XD (that's actually such a small detail but I love it so much idk why)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA Were you expecting this?!   
> I decided you all deserved this extra update because the last chapter was so short. Much love :-)

Peter Parker understood the word  _ busy _ more than most teenagers. 

He was still bothered by y/n’s frequent use of it as he texted Happy that he was done. He was Spider-Man and he definitely had time on more than one day of the week that he was available. He had decent grades and he had time for his family and friends and even an extracurricular. He was a well-rounded student. A bright young man. And yet he still didn’t understand how one person could be so busy and not provide any explanation other than having a job. 

He was so lost in thought, he hadn’t even bothered with his usual chatter with Happy. 

“Hey, kid,” said Happy. “What’s up? You fail a test or something?”

Peter shook his head, staring out the window as he shut the door. “Just thinking.” 

“Whatever you’re planning, don’t do it,” ordered Happy. “Or talk to Tony first.” 

Peter turned to Happy, brows creased at the implication. “I’m not planning anything, I’m just thinking. Anything interesting happen today?” 

Happy shrugged. “A couple of packages to sign here and there, a few papers. FRIDAY notified me about someone attempting to hack the system about thirty minutes before you texted me, so I went over to the location with a few officers. Got him arrested.” 

Peter took this into consideration. “Huh. Was he working with anyone?” 

Happy glanced back in the rearview mirror. “Do you mean was he in an organization?” 

Peter shrugged. “I dunno, in an organization, on some sort of team. It’s pretty stupid to try and attack the company like that.” 

“Not sure, I left to pick you up. He’s being questioned. Tony will probably know,” answered Happy. 

Peter, satisfied with his effort in conversation, turned back to the window. Y/n had left him with a lot to contemplate. As always, Peter thanked Happy for the ride and made his way up to the lab. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he greeted. “I’m gonna go out to patrol for a bit.” 

Tony looked up from what he was doing. “Okay… is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he brushed off, setting his bag in the corner of the lab. “Just wanted to let you know I’m gonna be gone for a bit.”

“Nope,” said Tony suddenly. “Nope, I know that tone. Last time you said that no one could reach you for two and a half hours.”

“I’ll keep my communications on,” argued Peter, mask in hand. He’d change in the guest room Tony let him use. “I just… Need to go out and do something. Y’know, blow off some steam.” 

“Or,” proposed Tony, “Hear me out, you could do that in the state-of-the-art training room. Better yet, we could talk about it.” 

Peter wondered what he had done for Responsible Tony to make an entrance or if Mr. Stark was just making more of an effort recently. “It’s nothing,” said Peter upsetly. “It’s stupid.” He didn’t even know why it bothered him so much. Really, if y/n had things to do with her life, who was he to judge?

“Well…” said Tony slowly, considering his words. “If it was nothing, it can’t be stupid, and it’s probably not that stupid if it’s bothing you so much. It’s alright if you don’t wanna talk about it, though.” 

Peter made an annoyed sound, not wanting to shut the older man out. “It’s just- My partner for the history project, the one on Stark Industries, is  _ always _ busy. It’s unbelievable.” Peter paced around the lab moodily. “It’s like- I dunno. I dunno what it’s like. She always just says that she has a job and family stuff but no one knows anything else. It’s like she has her whole week planned around school and her job and her dad and nothing else. 

“And we kinda ended up choosing Tuesdays for working on our project, but next week her dad has this business dinner or something and so she can’t make it. So I said we could move it to Thursday but she said she had to check with her boss first. Which is fine, some students have to work, I totally get that. But she was always too busy for Decathlon and she’s not in  _ any  _ clubs or sports. She’s probably the quietest person in the whole school and the only reason most people know her is because Flash keeps trying to get her to date him.” At this point, Peter was stiffly tinkering with something he had found on a nearby table. 

Tony waited for a moment after Peter was done speaking. “You know I don’t like talking to you while you’re on the ceiling,” began Tony. Peter swiftly flipped so his feet were on the floor. “Thank you. So, you’re upset because this girl, what was her name?” 

“Y/n,” answered Peter shortly. “Y/l/n.” 

“So, y/n is busy… This upsets you because?” 

Peter huffed. “Because she seems so sad whenever she says she’s busy. Like she wishes she could do stuff but she can’t make time. And because this project is due in a few weeks and we’re working so slowly. We could totally get it done in a few days if she was less busy. She loves mechanics and stuff, and she’s super smart. Probably smarter than I am. You should’ve seen the project she made for her engineering class last year. She designed a biometric lockbox using an old action camera and a flip phone. And a box, of course.” 

Tony’s eyebrows shot up, an impressed look crossing his face. “Is that so? Why not invite her over, then? You’ve got that long weekend coming up, right? You said you could finish the project in a few days, just do it then. Nowhere better to work on a project about a company than one of its headquarters.” 

“She’s not allowed to go to sleepovers,” said Peter, recalling a piece of gossip he had overheard once. “Her dad’s really strict.” 

Tony shrugged. “Then she won’t sleep over. Invite her over, tell her what you think about finishing the project. If she says no, then you go about it like planned. Maybe she’ll be less busy down the line.” 

“Maybe,” agreed Peter, his anger from earlier gone. “I’m gonna get a snack before I head out. Hey, Happy told me about that one guy who tried to hack the system earlier.” 

“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” said Tony calmly. “S.H.I.E.L.D is looking into it, though, apparently he got the tech from a friend and upgraded it a bit. Stole it, really, but the program still failed. Other than that, he seemed to be working alone. He didn’t stand a chance, his method was just a little… unique.”

Peter took the information with a thanks and left to go grab the snack he had mentioned. Up in the kitchen, Peter dug through the fridge for some random snacks, setting them on the counter before grabbing some chips from the cabinet. 

“Hey, Peter,” greeted Natasha, ruffling his hair as she walked in with Steve. “How was school?” 

Peter finished the bite of apple in his mouth before speaking. “Hi Miss Romanoff. School was good, thanks. Did you just get back?” 

“I got back while you were at your aunt’s,” she answered, grabbing an apple for herself. She offered one to Steve, who denied it quietly. “Learn anything new?” 

“Not much,” shrugged Peter, taking another bite of food. “Where’d you go this time?” 

“Belarus,” answered Natasha. 

Peter’s face scrunched in confusion. “Where?” 

“Belarus. It’s between Poland and Russia,” explained the redhead, who now also sported blond highlights. “Right on top of Ukraine. Nowhere new, though.” 

“Aw. Still at 98 then? Didn’t make any stops anywhere?” asked Peter disappointedly. They were trying to see if Natasha could travel to every country in the world, or at the very least reach 100, before she was 40. 

“You know that’s not how it works Peter,” she smiled. “I got you some clothes from a popular brand there, though. They’re waiting outside your room.” 

“Really? Thanks! I’ll get it before I change, I was about to go patrolling,” he commented as he threw away his trash. “You can tell me all the stuff that’s not super secret later, I’m coming back for my bag and dinner.”

Natasha nodded as the boy left to change into his suit. As promised, a nondescript bag was in front of his door, and he took the items to hang in his closet. A few graphic tees and a pair of joggers were in it, and Peter put them away quickly. He was eager to get out. 

“Hey, Karen,” he said as he slipped on his mask. “If I get a message on my phone, can you, like, read it out to me? If I leave my phone here?”

“Sure, Peter,” answered a slightly automated voice. “Are you waiting for anything in particular?” 

“Um, well.” Peter took out his phone to send a message to y/n.  _ Hey, wanna come over to the tower on the weekend? _ He retyped the message twice before sending it. “Now I am,” said Peter finally. “Uhhh, contact name is History Buddy, so anything she says… Just put it through.” 

Upon Karen’s confirmation, Peter made his way to the stairwell in the corner of the building to escape out a special window Tony had installed for him. From there, he swung down to the roof of the building next door. 

“Peter, Mr. Stark requests that you stay out of Hell’s Kitchen and Lower Manhattan, local authorities seem to be rather busy in that area as of late,” informed Karen. 

“Tell him that I was just looking for Gordan Ramsey,” joked Peter, changing his direction to Upper Manhattan. 

“I’m sure that wasn’t what he meant,” the AI responded. “And I doubt he would appreciate the joke.”

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t we go check out the Bronx tonight?” he proposed, balancing on the edge of a building as he searched for something to do. “Maybe Spiderman will catch something for Captain America. He’s a big Yankee’s fan.” 

“You’d have better luck with that tomorrow, there aren’t any games tonight,” replied Karen lightly. “History Buddy sent a message.” 

Peter fumbled for a minute, nearly falling off the building. “Wh- Wha- Why are you waiting to tell me? What’d she say?” 

“She’s asking what weekend. Are you alright, Peter? You seem to have lost your balance for a moment and I’m sensing an increase in your vitals.” 

Peter waved it off. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Uh, the long weekend. Tell her that.” 

He made his way around the city as he waited, stopping a couple muggings and some bike thefts. His mind wasn’t really there though, and he kept asking Karen if y/n had messaged. 

“You seem very anxious, is y/n important to you?” she asked eventually. 

He fell just a bit as he was swinging between buildings, making his way back to the tower for a quick dinner. “I guess,” he answered, after much deliberation. “I’m just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, trying to help people.” 

Peter changed between swinging and walking across buildings with practiced ease. Once he had returned to the tower, he grabbed a set of clothes and made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower before dinner. It was Tuesday, and that meant taco night. 

Peter decided to pull on one of the shirts Natasha had gifted him. He towelled off his hair as he checked his phone. Still no new messages. He tucked his phone into his pocket as he exited his room. He could smell the meat already.

“Hey, everyone!” he greeted as he entered. A few asked how his patrol went and he shrugged, giving them a summary as he filled a plate with a few different tacos.

Peter slid his phone onto the table so he could see his notifications as soon as he received them. 

“Phones off the table, Pete,” ordered Tony. “Even I don’t have any tech, come on.” Peter obeyed the order without complaint, instead focusing on his food. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Waiting for a call, Spider-Boy?” 

Peter sent an unamused glare at him as he began a new taco. “I was waiting for a text actually.” 

“History partner still not answer?” asked Tony, who was serving himself from the counter. “Juice anyone?” 

Steve took him up on the offer, rising the table and diluting his cup with a bit of water before returning. “She asked which weekend, but didn’t say anything else when I answered,” explained Peter meanwhile. His phone buzzed on his lap, but it was only a meme from Ned that he sent a quick reply to. 

“Huh. Weird,” said Tony. “Wouldn’t most people jump at the offer to be here? Hanging out with the Avengers?” He received various reactions from the rest of the table. 

Clint was the first to voice his concerns. “You invited someone to the tower?” 

Peter was quick to answer. “Yeah, Mr. Stark was the one to come up with the idea but I was thinking we could stay in my room. You guys wouldn’t even have to meet her. I mean, unless you want to. She’s pretty quiet though, she won’t tell anyone anything, I don’t think.”

“She’s clean,” added Tony. “I ran a background check while Peter was out. Just for an extended weekend so they can do their project, only a few days. And they would be in my lab  _ under supervision _ . Or in the living room on my level. Under supervision,” he reiterated. 

“Do we get a name for the mystery girl?” asked Natasha, wiping her hands with a napkin before folding them under her chin. “Are we just gonna call her The Visitor?” 

“Y/N,” said Peter. “I don’t even know if she’s actually coming over yet, so don’t get too excited.” 

Sam waved it off as though it was of no consequence. “Who would deny a personal invitation here?” 

Peter’s phone buzzed as if to answer. Regardless of what Tony had said, Peter set his hand on the table, phone visible. “Someone whose father might need help with a Memorial Day party,” he grumbled after reading the message. “She’s gonna ask him again later. The Thursday before works for her, though, so at least there’s that.” 

Sam just shook his head in disbelief as Tony shrugged. 

“Can’t win every battle, kiddo,” he said, squeezing the teen’s shoulder as he walked past. “Sometimes you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got.” 

“I know,” said Peter. “It just sucks because she would probably love to be here. She was really disappointed that the history exhibit wasn’t open on weekends.” 

“The one downstairs?” asked Tony. “That I showed you the other day, that one?” 

“That one,” confirmed Peter. 

Tony grabbed the phone from across the table, and Peter let out a surprised “Hey!”

“What’s her name? Y/n, right?” he asked as he opened the camera from the chat. He didn’t wait for Peter’s confirmation before he started recording. “Y/n. Hi, you probably recognize me but in case you don’t, I’m Tony Stark. Y’know, Iron Man, the Billionaire Genius Philanthropist that owns this tower in Midtown. Now, I know Peter’s invited you over, but this is an invitation from me. I’ll give you a full tour of the place and you can check out the history exhibit for as long as you want. Let me know what you think.” He hit send as soon as the video was done and handed the phone back to Peter. 

“Let’s see how much she actually wants to help with a party. Why don’t we invite her over here for a party, actually, that’d be fun,” he suggested. “We can mention it when she comes over.” 

Peter was still flabbergast that Tony had  _ done that _ . Just took his phone and sent her a message. “Okay, sir.” 

“May decided she wants to pick you up, by the way, so try and do some homework when you’re done eating,” he mentioned casually. 

“Sure,” said Peter numbly, wondering how you would react. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you have an eventful phone call.

You stared at your phone in shock. Tony Stark had just invited you to Avengers’ Tower.  _ Tony Stark _ had invited  _ you _ to Avengers’ Tower. You must have died and gone to heaven. 

Of all the things you were expecting when you had returned to your phone after dinner, that was not one of them. You pressed the call button in disbelief, waiting as it rang a few times.

“Hey, y/n,” answered Peter from the other side of the line. 

“If this is a prank I might toss myself off of the roof of my apartment building,” you said seriously. 

He cleared his throat. “It’s not a prank. And please don’t do that.”

“Peter whatever-your-middle-name-is Parker, did you just get Tony Stark to invite me over?” While you had said the sentence in a quiet rush, you were screaming inside. 

“Uh, it’s Benjamin and, well, he kinda did that by himself? I just said that you seemed like you really wanted to visit it and that we could probably finish the project in one weekend. And I mentioned that you couldn’t be sure because of your dad and that party, and Mr. Stark just really likes to be helpful. He likes it when my homework is done, too, I don’t really know why he invited you, though. Not like that! That sounded mean, you’re really fun to hang out with, just that I’m as surprised as you are.” 

You were silent as your thoughts raced. Half of you was screaming about how this was what you always wanted, the other half was breaking as it tried to figure out how to do this around your father’s back, and how much time he would need. 

“Y/n?” asked Peter. “Are you still there?” 

“B.R.B. Just looking for a void to throw myself into,” you replied. “I really want to go,” you told him, trying not to let your voice crack. It did anyways. “But I’m serious, Peter, I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to.” 

“Are you- Just a second, lemme just-” He started talking to someone in the background. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just gonna finish this call in my room guys, I’ll be back,” you overheard. 

“Y/n, are you... alright?” he asked, after a short wait. 

You muted your phone as a few quiet tears escaped. You needed to get yourself together. “Yeah,” you said thickly, turning the mic back on. “Yeah, it just- It would really  _ suck _ if my dad said no.” 

“It really would,” agreed Peter. “If you had help with set up, maybe, do you think he would let you come? We could hang out somewhere else too, if you want.” 

“I really don’t know, Peter,” you mumbled. “Just- This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, so I hope my dad will see that. I’ll ask him about it. Do you think Mr. Stark would accept a rain check if he says no?” 

Peter was quiet, and you honestly braced yourself for a hard no. “Totally,” he said eventually. “He’d be fine with it.” 

“Really?” you asked quietly. “It’s okay if you don’t think so, no need to get my hopes up.” 

“Hey Mr. Staaarrk!” called out Peter. You stopped breathing as you realized Peter was actually going to check. “Mr. Stark!” 

“What’s up, kiddo? Did she say yes?” It was official, you were dead. You were dead. There was no way on this green earth that Tony Stark was asking about you. 

“She asked if she could rain check in case her dad says no.” 

Mr. Stark replied with something you couldn’t hear. A moment later, he was speaking to you. “Y/n? This is Tony. You there?” 

You suddenly realized you were running out oxygen and took a breath. “Um,”  _ Shit, y/n, you’re talking to TONY STARK. SAY SOMETHING. _ “Uh, h-hi, sir.” 

“You alright over there? You sound a little shell shocked. Not unusual, happens pretty often, really. I’m an important person I know.” He continued his self absorbed talking for a moment. “Anyways, Peter mentioned you might wanna rain check? I must say it’s a pretty bold move to ask for something like that.” 

You tried to force your voice to work, to explain. “Uh- well, Mr. Stark, sir, um, I just don’t know if my father’s going to say, um, say yes. He uh… he isn’t very fond of heroes. He’s a police lieutenant.” At least you managed to say one sentence without stuttering. “And he’s pretty strict.” Does that count for two?

“Ah,” answered Tony. “I see… So, did Peter mention why he wants you over?” 

You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself as you realized he wouldn’t see it. “Not yet, probably to work on the project.” 

“Exactly. So, you’re going to a friend’s house to finish a history project. Does that sound alright?” 

_ Not really, he’s probably still going to say no _ . “Alright, sir. It sounds alright,” you answered instead.

“And if he says no, you can just study with Peter on Thursday and rain check.”

You pinched yourself hard. It hurt. “Sounds like a plan, sir. Thank you.” 

“Just trying to make sure you kids get your homework done,” he said. “Now I’m pretty sure Peter wants his phone back and this is the second time I’ve taken it from him, so… I look forward to meeting you.” 

“Me too, sir.” 

Peter started talking the second he got on the phone again. “I swear I didn’t plan that out.” 

“Tony Stark just invited me to Avengers’ Tower,” you said in astonishment. 

“I know the feeling, he showed up to my apartment one day and I walked in while he was talking to my aunt. I was like ‘There’s this crazy car outside,’ and I turned and realized ‘Woah, Tony Stark is in my living room,’ it was crazy. I think he likes that, you know, surprising people,” Peter rambled for a bit. You listened with half an ear. 

“Wow,” you breathed. “Um… wow. Thanks. Thanks, Peter.” 

“Uh, you’re welcome? What’d I do?” 

“Y/n,” you heard from outside your door. Instantly, you dropped from cloud nine and back onto your bed. “Get off that damn phone of yours.” 

“Shoot, I’ve gotta go. But just- thanks.” You hung up your phone and pulled a random book close as your father came in. 

“Who were you talking to,” he demanded. “I’m not stupid, y/n, I know you were on the phone.” 

“My partner for a history project,” you answered quickly. “He invited me to finish the project over memorial weekend.” 

He crossed his arms and rested against the door frame. “That’s a stupid excuse to try and leave the party. I don’t like being lied to. Who called? Do you have a secret boyfriend now?”

A pang of despair filled you as he accused you of lying once again. “I swear, sir, that’s all it was.” 

“Phone,” he commanded, palm out. “I’ll be keeping it for the rest of the night.” 

You warily handed it over, thanking the fact that you had hidden Peter’s chat earlier that day. You muted your phone just in case you received any other messages.

He pocketed the item and left. The door of your room remained open. Good. That’d help with the connection. You hurried to dig out your graphing calculator and a USB chip, turning on the calculator and selecting the program from the list of options. 

_ Connection Successful _ . You were grateful for small mercies as the program continued

_ Shut down device? _

_ Yes No _

You selected yes and waited momentarily.  _ Shut down confirmed _ blinked your screen a moment later. A relieved smile crossed your face as you quietly shut the door. Your phone wouldn’t turn on unless you activated it from your calculator or pressed the power button in the morse code for open. It was one of your ideas that you had worked on until it was successful. It had taken you just over two years of work to complete, but it was more than worth the effort. 

  
You were done studying for the night. Maybe you weren’t done with all your homework, but you were definitely done for the night. You lay in bed with your mind coming up for a hundred different scenarios for  _ officially meeting Tony Stark _ . You weren’t sure of when you had fallen asleep, but your dreams that night were filled with variations of Avengers’ Tower and Peter Parker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, sorry!  
> Did you enjoy it? What do you think about Reader's answer to Tony Stark?   
> A little teaser for the next chapter: Reader gets visited at work. I'll let you guess who it is. Let me know what you think in the comments :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you fall off your bike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH I forgot it was Saturday!! So sorry!

Just like every sunday, you had cleaned the apartment from floor to ceiling, inside out. You would never normally put so much effort into it, but if you were going to have people coming over, you might as well make the place more presentable when you had the time. 

You took a once over of the apartment before leaving. Admittedly, you weren’t sure the apartment had ever looked better, and you couldn’t think of anything else to do, so... time for coffee. On your back was a drawstring bag with your work clothes. You wouldn’t be returning until late into the night. 

King’s Brew Cafe was in the opposite direction of your work, but it was worth the travel. You would really only have about ten minutes inside the shop before you would have to turn around, but it was good coffee. Just what you needed before work. You were working from 5:30 to 9:30 that evening, which wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the 6 to 12 shift you had clocked in the night before, but you were already exhausted. 

You entered the cafe after locking up your bike to the usual tree. A cursory glance showed that neither Steve nor James was around, but you weren’t expecting them to be. It was far earlier than normal, after all. 

“Could I get a… red eye with the lightest coffee roast you have,” you requested. “To go.”

The barista raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Planning an all nighter?” he asked as he punched in your order. “That’s a lot of caffeine.” 

“It’s probably not even going to be close to enough,” you joked as you paid. “It’s been a long shift and- It’s been a long  _ day _ and I’ve got a shift to work.” You both laughed at your slip up and he told you that your drink would be ready in a minute. 

Once your cup and made it into your cup holder and your bike was removed from the tree, you began your journey to the Dane. While you didn’t mind the exercise, it was really times like these when you contemplated motorizing your bike. You always reserved any big projects on your bike for the summer, when you’d have more time on your hands. Thankfully, that was just over a month away. You inspected your newly adjusted wheels as you rode. So far the rims hadn’t shown any signs of warping due to the new spokes, so you were in the clear. 

You locked your bike up to the fence surrounding the outdoor tables, knowing that Scott wouldn’t mind. You unclipped your helmet as you entered and were about to make your usual greetings when you saw the characteristic blonde braid of your favorite co-worker.

“Lauren!” you exclaimed. She spun around quickly, catching your hug. “I haven’t seen you in a  _ week,  _ where have you been?” you asked, stepping back after a moment. 

“Hello, what are the rest of us, chopped liver?” asked Scott from behind the bar, whipping around the towel he had been using to dry off one of the shaker cups.

You gave a dramatic sigh. “Well, the rest of you are just so old. None of you quite measure up to Lauren. Sorry, Scott.” At 19, Lauren was only a few years older than you were and the second youngest of the work family. She had a bright personality and a fondness for musicals that soon caught on with most of the staff, including yourself. In short, she was the type of person that was easy to befriend.

Lauren grinned with a slight shake of her head at your behaviour. “They’re all amazing, y/n.”

“I better be amazing, I sign your paycheck,” noted Scott under his breath. 

You faced Lauren, rolling your eyes jokingly at your boss before downing your coffee. “Whatever, I’m going to go change really quick. Are you hosting tonight?” 

“Waitressing.  _ Xavier  _ is hosting,” she said, returning a few salt shakers to their table caddies. “It’s his first time, he looks so nervous. I think he’s in the break room still. Maybe you can help him with his tie, he must have done it over like, twelve times.” 

You laughed lightly. “Sounds like him. For someone who lives in such a big city, you would think he wouldn’t be so…” 

“Shy?” 

“Anxious?” 

“Quiet?” 

The suggestions came from around the restaurant. 

“All the above?” you answered, your smile turning slightly rueful. “Anyways, I’m sure we’ll both be out soon.” 

When you entered the break room, Xavier was standing in front of a mirror in the far corner, measuring out the two ends of his tie. You tossed your bag and helmet onto a couch as you made your way over, the noise causing him to glance at your reflection.

“You know,” you began, sliding beside him. “I heard you got into political science at one of the most selective universities in this country.” 

He turned to face you with a sigh.

You flipped his tie around, tying it in a simple knot rather quickly. “I find it difficult to believe you can’t tie a tie. Especially because you’ve done it so many times before.” 

“If anything I probably know too many ways to tie a tie,” he quipped as you straightened it. 

“Well maybe you should get yourself a bowtie and save us all the trouble. Actually, why are you even bothering with a tie? This is a  _ grill _ , we’re not that formal,” you realized. “Here.” You pulled off the tie, pushing it into his hand. “Hold this.” 

“Y/n,” he groaned. “I want to look nice. Professional.” 

“You’re wearing a white button down shirt in a grill,” you deadpanned, unbuttoning his wrist cuff. For all that Xavier was a professional, he almost seemed incapable of dressing any other way. 

“Y/n?” He let you fold up the sleeve of his shirt, watching as you tucked it neatly. “Is this really necessary, I looked perfectly fine, come on.” 

“Yep. Now leave that alone,” you commanded, moving to the other with little hesitation. “Why are you so nervous? You’ve been waiting tables for like, a year. Hosting isn't a big deal.” 

“I’m going to be the first face these people see, the first to ask them how they’re doing and set the tone of this place. What if I ruin everything? Everything is focused on the greeting. What if my voice cracks?” he voiced. “What if someone points it out? Or worse…”

You straightened the edge of his sleeve to hide a blue and pink tattoo on the inside of his elbow. He had gotten it just after he first started transitioning. It had been rather sudden, the way that the team first found out. Scott had been the first to know and had stuck to gender neutral nicknames for several months until Xavier walked in one day, with an entirely new look and declaring his new title and pronouns. 

The first response was from one of the chefs that you weren’t familiar with at the time. “Holy shit, you look good, bro. Nice fade,” he said. A round of agreement occurred before people started requesting him to help with various tasks. Everyone was eager to use his new name and pronouns and prove to Xavier that he was valued as part of the team, no matter his identity. 

You shook your head to clear the memory from your mind, knowing where his worries were travelling. “Okay, Xavier, buddy… This isn’t some poli-sci function. It’s the Dane. You say hi, you either show them to a table or you tell them to wait for a moment if it’s a full house. If you show them to a table, try and give it to a server that has less customers. Then, when they’re done, you accept their payment and ask them to come back soon. Easy peasy, you literally talk to them twice. Just keep up that perfect smile of yours and you’ll be fine.”

You glanced over your work once more before unbuttoning the top button of his collar. 

“Y/n!” he objected, swatting your hand away. You flinched at the motion, but didn't complain.

“It looks nice,” you countered quietly as you straightened his shirt a bit. “You know, your Adam’s apple has started showing a lot more recently.” 

That caused Xavier to pause. “Are you just saying that?” 

“No,” you told him honestly. “I’m sure you noticed it yourself. I just thought I’d mention it, though.”

“Oh.” He turned to the mirror to inspect the image it reflected.

“Yep. Now please get out. Scott’s waiting and I still have to change.” You stepped back, staring at him until the door shut behind him.

Grabbing your things from where they had been ditched, you made your way to the connected single stall bathroom. After locking the door, you changed quickly and fixed your hair back. Helmet hair was unflattering, but you had seen the damage caused by being hit by a car and you did not want to end up like that. 

“Looking good, y/n,” you praised your reflection. Ready to finally start your shift, you opened your locker, punched in, and re-entered the dining area. You were surprised to see everyone gathered around Xavier, laughing merrily at something Lauren had said. 

“The artist behind the masterpiece,” said Scott as he noticed you. “Seriously, kid, how’d you get him to loosen up?” 

“I told him this wasn’t a fancy convention,” you smiled. “I gotta say, Xavier, twenty-three year old college student looks a lot better on you than forty-seven year old businessman… No offense, Scott.” 

“None taken, I’m fifty-two,” he smirked. “Still got the good looks, though.” 

“And yet, you’re still unmarried,” commented Lauren. “How tragic, old man. Clock’s ticking.” 

“Eh, I’m not worried about it,” he shrugged. “I’ve already got my will written out, anyways. It’s about time we open, though, let’s go everyone. Everyone know their table numbers? Xavier, I promise, you’ll be great as a host. I promise. Hey, look, it’s my favorite old man coming up the sidewalk.” 

A smile split your lips as you caught sight of him. Scott “Scotty” Jefferson was a man well within senior status, about fifteen years older than Jeff Scott. The pair had taken humor in their shared names and met weekly. No one, in all your three years of working, came more regularly than Scotty. He was in front of the doors at five thirty every sunday, not a second late. 

Jeff welcomed Scotty himself, leading him over to the bar as everyone else dispersed, casually greeting the Scotts as they passed. Just another Sunday at the Dane as the regulars began to filter through. During your break between bringing out orders and making jokes with guests, you grabbed a few french fries from the bag you had purposefully set aside in the kitchen. Along with that, one of the chefs had made you a slider, supposedly at the boss’s insistence. 

Xavier eventually assigned one of the newer pairs to a table you were serving sometime around eight thirty, after you had finished the fries, slider, and a cup of juice. They both looked middle aged, a blond man that was just starting to go grey and a redhead woman with blonde highlights. 

“Hi there,” you greeted peppily. “Have you both had enough time to look over the beverages on our menu?” 

The woman was the first to answer, smiling as she did. “I have, thank you. I’ll take a large mint lemonade, please.” 

You made a note on your notepad as you turned to the man. “Sure thing. Is there anything I can get for you, sir?” 

He tilted his head slightly, glancing over the menu again. “What do you think about the Grapefruit smoothie?” 

You contemplated the question with a nod of your head. “I like it. It’s good.” 

“But...” he encouraged. 

“I personally think it’s better without the cranberry. Grapefruit juice, Strawberries, and Pineapple are all it really needs,” you informed him. “Although I haven’t tried the alcoholic version, which I’ve been told desperately needs it.” 

“I’ll take that, then. Non-alcoholic.” 

You jotted it down quickly. “I’ll have your drinks out in a moment. Is there anything else I could get you both?” 

“A hummus plate would be nice,” said the man, and you added it to the notes. 

“Ma’am, anything?” you inquired. “It’s impossible to go wrong with the appetizers here.” 

She flipped through looking for the appetizers and you waited respectfully. “The cheesy spinach bread bowl looks pretty good.” 

“It is,” you confirmed. “Would you like me to add that to your order?” 

“Go ahead.” 

You delivered the order to the kitchen staff, taking ready orders for another table out in the meanwhile. During the slight lull, you decided to check in on Xavier. You made your way quietly to the front under the pretense of checking how all your tables were with their meals. 

“Hey, hotshot, how’re you holding up?” you asked when you reached him. “Only a bit longer until the diner closes and you’re off, right?” 

“I’m holding up,” he responded, scrunching up some of his dark curls. “There were so many people but it’s gone down a bit. Jeff only came around once, so far.” 

“He was saying goodbye to Scotty, that doesn’t count,” you said instantly. “He always leaves the bar for Scotty.” 

He shrugged, his eyes glancing towards the door as the sound of rain made its way inside. “I mean… You’re right, so far, it’s pretty much just smile and nod. Give them their menus and say a server will be over shortly and you don’t see them again until they pay. I mean, there was a little kid who, y’know, asked... The parents apologized and now Lauren’s serving them so... I dunno.” 

A pair of people who looked like they had been caught in the rain made their way inside, which was your cue to go. “Kids always ask too many questions...” you muttered quickly. “Listen, I’ll see if someone can pass you a bag of fries when they get the chance. Maybe that’ll make things a little bit better, alright? Keep up the good work.” 

You walked over to the kitchen, stressfully realizing that a number of orders had been completed in your absence. 

You collected the orders for table 14 onto a large tray, keeping it out of the way of others as you moved. It was a joke around the staff that food service jobs made arm days unnecessary, what with the balancing of trays and the constant work. 

“Sorry for the wait,” you said, an apologetic smile on your face. “Mint Lemonade with a Spinach Bowl for the lady and Grapefruit Smoothie with a Hummus Plate for the gent,” you announced, setting the respective items down as you named them. 

They both thanked you graciously, brushing off the apology with smiles on their faces. 

“Feel free to call me over if there’s anything I can help with,” you said before making your way back to the kitchen. You returned to the kitchen to bring out desserts for the other two tables, calling out that someone should pass a bag of fries to Xavier when they get a chance. Someone assured you that they’d get to it in a moment. 

The rest of your shift seemed to pass quickly. The pair at table 14 both ordered steak before leaving with to-go orders of several cheesecake brownies. You served three more pairs and four groups before the end of your shift. 

The last pair you had served was a pair of men, both with salt and pepper hair. Something about how their eyes remained trained on you set an uneasy feeling within you. Eventually they had taken to the bar, where they remained until the end of your shift. 

After you had changed back into your normal clothes you realized two things. First, you had left your bike in the rain. Second, you didn’t have a jacket. While the rain had tapered down a bit, it certainly wouldn’t be fun to leave in. Regardless of that fact, the situation was what it was. At least biking would cut down the time spent travelling. 

Bidding goodbye and good night to your coworkers, you exited the building and unlocked your bike with the help of your phone flash light. You turned on the light mounted on your bike and tugged your helmet on before leaving for home quickly. You stayed on the street to avoid the glass and other obstacles that tended to litter the sidewalks. 

The sound of a car caused you to glance backwards. A sudden bolt of lightning illuminated it sharply as it sped toward you. You swerved violently out of the way, nearly flipping as you went over the curb and barely avoided a tree.

You landed on the sidewalk with a skid before your bike tipped. Your heart thudded in your chest as thunder rumbled around you and you watched the dimly lit street as the car vanished.  _ What the hell was that? Who drives without their lights in the middle of the night while it’s raining? And at that speed? _

Sitting on the sidewalk catching your breath allowed the cold rain to soak you completely; something you didn’t realize until a car pulled up beside you, the window rolling down. 

“You alright?” asked a woman. You recognized her as the one who had been at table 14, with the mint lemonade. That was odd. She had left the Dane almost an hour before you had. 

You took a few more breaths before nodding and picking yourself and your bike off the ground. “I’m- I’m alright, thanks, just on my way home. I slipped in the rain, but I’m fine.” You checked yourself over. There was nothing worse than a few scrapes, but you could deal with those. Your bike hadn’t appeared to sustain any damage, either.

“If you say so,” she replied. “Stay safe, kid. And stay on your toes.” 

Whatever her cryptic message meant, you were too tired to pay attention to it. By the time you got home you were dripping wet and too exhausted to question anything, including your father’s whereabouts since it was blatantly obvious that you were home alone. You had a quick shower to warm yourself, and then you went to sleep. 

Your last thought was about how your coffee definitely hadn’t had nearly enough caffeine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, SCOTT IS ASEXUAL. He’s also Aromantic. He doesn’t want sex or a relationship, he has devoted his time to his craft and is 100% ok with that. Just to let y'all know.  
> Secondly, I got some help writing this chapter for both Xavier and Lauren, who are somewhat based on real people I know and love =D they're amazing.   
> Third: did you catch who else was mentioned? It'll be revealed in the next chapter if you didn't. 
> 
> Again, much love, and thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! It means the world to me.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Natasha go on a walk.

Most of the Avengers were gathered in the living room for game night as rain pattered outside. They were playing Uno at Sam’s behest and were somewhere in their third round when Clint and Natasha entered. Steve looked up from his set of cards, along with everyone else. 

“Hey, look, it’s our favorite spies,” welcomed Tony. “So, where’d you go? You missed dinner.”

“We decided to eat out,” said Clint, holding up a paper bag in his hand. “Get away from all this annoying nonsense. Deal us in.” 

Tony gave them each a set of seven cards from the new card pile as they setted around the table. “Don’t you, y’know, have other places to be, Legolas? If you find this place so annoying.” 

“I wish.” Clint reordered the stack he had received as he responded. “Unfortunately, the both of us are currently somewhat on the job. Whose turn?” 

Sam placed down a yellow five, which gave the next turn to Bucky. 

“Wait, by on the job do you mean you’re both on a mission?” asked Tony, waiting patiently for his turn. “Like right now.” 

“Yep, like right now,” confirmed Natasha, taking a seat beside Steve as he took his turn. “Sort of. S.H.I.E.L.D has us both monitoring a potential threat.” 

Tony folded his cards and laid them face down on the table. He looked as though he was refraining from crossing his arms. “How much of a  _ potential  _ threat is it if they sent the two of you out?” 

Natasha raised an eyebrow, setting a blue seven on top of Steve’s red card. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s more complicated than you think. Besides, it was a matter of convenience.” 

Steve eyed the pair warily. He’d find out eventually, he was sure, but as of the moment he was fine laying low. The two of them could handle whatever was going on. S.H.I.E.L.D usually tried to avoid calling him in since he had pretty much retired after the fiasco with the Soviet Accords, and Steve had no problem with that. Although that apparently hadn’t stopped them from calling in Clint, who had quite literally retired twice now.

Tony, on the other hand, was the type who needed to know everything as soon as possible. His cards remained down even though it was now his turn. “Um, it’s totally my business if I’m going to be called out to deal with it sometime.” 

“She’s low profile and low threat for now,” said Clint, taking Tony’s posture as his cue to take the turn. “Although no one is sure how long that’ll last if someone tries recruiting her. Or killing her. Half of the job is just protection, anyways.” 

That caught Steve’s attention and he set his few cards down as well. Sam and Bucky followed his lead, sitting up a bit more as the conversation turned serious. “Wait, so why doesn’t S.H.I.E.L.D just recruit her if she’s available? Do they think she’d sabotage them?” 

“You guys really suck at this family time thing,” complained Clint as the atmosphere changed. “It’s supposed to be all play, no work.”

“I told you they’d do this,” commented Natasha smugly. “You’re all overreacting. She’s probably more of a target than she is a threat. S.H.I.E.L.D is in the shadows trying to figure out who and why before they approach her. She wasn’t so much as a blip on the radar until recently.” At least they now had a gender for their potential villain.

“Well then, what happened?” asked Tony. “Did she do something?” 

Natasha smiled sweetly at him. “Sorry, but that’s above your clearance level.” 

Steve’s eyes searched Natasha and Clint. Since Steve was above both their clearance levels, he technically had every right to search for the information and receive it. And right now he was really wondering what was so important that it had to be hidden from the rest of the team. 

“Totally not sorry,” scoffed Sam, continuing to play by laying a card on top of the stack. The rest of the game went on with a change of discussion as Clint opened the bag in his hand, pulling out a bit of dessert. 

“Does anyone want a cheesecake brownie?” he offered, placing the bag on the table. “They’re really good.” 

“That’s his third,” said Natasha, taking one of her own. “He was eating them in the car.”

With the exception of Bucky and Steve, everyone took a brownie. Natasha ended up claiming the two extras, and while Sam looked jealous, nobody argued.

Tony snatched the now empty bag off the table. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, add The Great Dane Bar and Grill to my list of places to visit.” 

“Sure thing, Boss,” said F.R.I.D.A.Y. 

“So, you both just happened to have enough time to stop at a grill during your little mission?” asked Sam, making a face as the cards changed color once more. 

“Yep,” responded Clint, popping the p. “Subject doesn’t stray much from her schedule. And her phone’s being monitored, which is apparently her only connection to the world outside her apartment so... No big problem.” 

No one was surprised by the information that they had bugged her. It was just one of the things that S.H.I.E.L.D did. Although, Steve personally hated the practice since back when S.H.I.E.LD was part H.Y.D.R.A. As long as he wasn’t on the receiving end, he was fine. 

After that, the discussion strayed to random things about all their days. Tony shared a few stories about Peter, which caused the rest of the team to exchange knowing looks that he ignored completely. Peter was absent from the table that evening since he was spending the night at home with his aunt. Supposedly. Tony’s storytelling soon led to Clint talking about his own kids. With the change of discussion, business was soon forgotten as the group played games until it got late. 

As Steve went to bed that night, his thoughts drifted back to what Natasha had said. 

“Hey, Buck,” he sighed, curling into his boyfriend’s chest as he climbed under the covers. “You’re not worried over what Natasha said, right? Y’know, about...” 

Bucky caught where he was going. “The potential threat?” 

“Yeah.” 

Bucky shifted and pulled Steve a little closer. “You’re worried.” 

Steve nodded, even though Bucky hadn’t answered his question nor asked one in return. “Just a little. It’s odd that they’d share so much and then stop like that. It’s almost like they were warning us of something, even though they were adamant that it’s not worth the worry.” 

They laid together quietly, listening to each other breathe. “I dunno, Stevie,” said Bucky eventually. “Romanoff and Barton seemed pretty certain that whoever this is, she’s harmless until someone takes an interest in her.” 

“But that just doesn’t make sense,” objected Steve. “They know people are interested in her already. There are others who already think of her as a threat if she’s a target.” 

Bucky pulled back a bit to give Steve a look. There was barely enough light in the room for Steve to see it. “Organizations can want to take people out for a wide number of reasons. Maybe it’s skills, maybe it’s information, maybe it’s connections. The list goes on. Whatever it is, they think she has potential.” 

“Then why not recruit her? Maybe she could become a threat, but they made it sound like she’s already one,” Steve pointed out, sitting up against the headboard. “If S.H.I.E.L.D gets her first, sets some conditions, they wouldn’t have to worry about it.” 

Bucky sighed and propped himself up with his arms. Steve wouldn’t let go of this easily. “You’re worried the problem isn’t being taken seriously.” 

“No, I’m worried  _ because  _ it’s being taken seriously,” corrected Steve. “They sent out Nat and Clint to  _ monitor  _ someone. Not to take her out, not to recruit, not to do anything. Why do two _ master assassins  _ need to tag her? I mean, they pulled Clint out of retirement for this? Really?”

Bucky considered what Steve was saying. “Do you think that they were toning it down, then? I don’t know them that well, but that doesn’t sound like something they would do,” disagreed Bucky. “You’re overthinking this. Romanoff said she’s a threat as much as she’s a target; they need someone in the shadows until they understand her motives and loyalties better. That’s probably all it is.” 

Steve was silent for a moment, mulling the idea over. “I guess.” 

“Why not just ask?” suggested Bucky, taking Steve’s hand and tugging gently. “They’re your friends. And your teammates.”

“They didn’t want to tell me today, I’m not sure how much they’d share tomorrow,” explained Steve, settling back into bed. “I wanted to at least have an idea before I say anything.” 

“They didn’t want to tell Stark,” said Bucky. “You know how he is. If they didn’t stop him somewhere he’d ask questions all night.” 

Steve huffed a slight laugh as he curled against Bucky once more, shutting his eyes. “He’s probably going to break into the files later, anyways. If he really wants to know.” 

“Well, let’s hope he isn’t as curious as you are,” said Bucky, shutting his own eyes. He finished the conversation with his usual words of good night, “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too, Buck,” replied Steve, snuggling as close to his boyfriend as he could. 

* * *

It took all of two days for Steve to catch Natasha alone. “Hey, Nat, why don’t we go for a walk together? Weather’s looking pretty good right now.” 

Natasha looked him up and down once before unfolding from the couch in the main lounge. “A walk sounds lovely,” she agreed, following him to the elevator. They made small talk about their days during the ride down, agreeing to just take a walk around the city, maybe through the park across the tower. 

The minute they had left Stark property, Natasha began the real conversation. “So, what’s the real reason you wanted to come out here?” 

Of course she would have noticed he was faking it. “Curiosity,” he answered honestly. “I’m still wondering about that threat you’re monitoring.” 

“What about it?” said Natasha, an air of carelessness surrounding her. “She’s really not that important.” 

“Then why are you and Clint assigned to her?” asked Steve, a tone of frustration dripping into his words. “Seriously, the both of us know you’re better than that.” 

“Aw, was that a compliment?” joked Natasha. “Trying to butter me up?”

Steve watched her from the corner of his eye. “Don’t avoid the question.” 

“I’m not,” she replied. “Like I said on Sunday, the situation is complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” scoffed Steve. “How is it so bad that they had to pull Clint out of retirement  _ again _ ?”

“On the better side of terrible. She doesn’t know about the situation, okay? At all,” said Natasha. There was a hard edge to her voice that warned Steve against pressing too hard. “She doesn’t know she’s a target and as far as I’m aware she doesn’t realize her potential as a threat.” 

That made absolutely no sense. “How- why- Is S.H.I.E.L.D seriously targeting people before they even do anything  _ again _ ?” That was the first cohesive question that he could think of. After the mess in D.C. all those years ago, he really didn’t think they’d try that method of solving their problems.

Natasha pursed her lips, dodging a business woman who was on the phone. “No, it’s not like that. She just… You can’t tell Tony this,” she warned. 

Steve agreed instantly. He hadn’t been planning for Tony to know anything about their outing.

“You remember when that one guy attacked the Stark Enterprises Database? There was a bit of a fuss made over it,” she hinted, trying to ease into the conversation a bit.

Steve’s jaw ticked as he thought. “Yeah, that was, what? A week ago now? I thought he was working alone.”

“ _ It’s complicated _ ,” repeated Natasha with only a dash of exasperation in her tone. “He got the program he was using from a friend of his, but the friend didn’t develop it. Not surprisingly, that friend had  _ also  _ stolen it from a third person who  _ also _ didn’t develop it. One of his students did.” 

“And you’re following the student,” chimed Steve, seeing where the conversation was going. “In case she does something else or is working for them intentionally.” 

“Pretty much got it in one shot,” nodded Natasha as Steve stepped out of the way of two kids running down the sidewalk. 

Steve tried his best not to react. “Pretty much? Is there more?” he asked in disbelief.

“Steve, seriously, if it was just that I could handle it by myself,” she said, having taken offense at his surprise. “I said it was complicated.” 

“How much more is there?” 

She sighed. “A lot. She’s on the radar of a lot of people and she knows nothing about it. It feels like we’re fending off the F.B.I. every ten minutes. And we can’t take out the people she’s in contact with because we’re still following the trail. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” 

Steve took a long breath. “Complicated,” he agreed. 

“Very,” she seconded. 

Steve processed the information. “Why is it such a big deal for Tony not to know?” he asked eventually, as they looped back around to the tower. “People try to hack in all the time, he already knows S.H.I.E.L.D is investigating the person who caused it.”

“Because of complications,” answered Natasha vaguely. 

Steve was getting tired of this puzzle really quickly. “He’s not one of the people she caught the attention of, is he?” questioned Steve sardonically. 

Natasha said nothing, but the way her eyes slid over to his gave him the answer he was searching for. 

“You can’t be serious,” he muttered, slowing his pace to extend the conversation. “Is he now hiring would-be criminals?” 

“He’s not hiring her,” she drawled, “and he’s not exactly aware of what he did.” 

“What’d he do?” asked Steve suspiciously. 

Natasha clenched her teeth, but she had given him enough information to say the next part. He might as well be in on the mission, at that point. A little more defense wouldn’t be bad... “He sent her a personal invitation to the tower.” 

Steve’s head snapped over to face her. “He what?” 

“The subject happens to be Y/F/N,” repeated Natasha. “Peter’s partner for history.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept wondering whether or not I wanted to end it here... You can see which decision I made. It was too tempting to just leave it at it was... totally not sorry. As always, thank you for reading!!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you host a business dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this chapter. You may recall we left off on "two whole days after game night" which makes it Tuesday... So it's time for the business dinner. Also, just a heads up: I felt like giving the dad a name so he now has a name. You'll see it while reading :-) 
> 
> If you were waiting for Steve's reaction, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, honestly. I wrote it out but I decided it just didn't feel necessary... I'm pretty sure you all can formulate an idea of what his reaction was like on your own, especially based off how many of you reacted XD His thoughts on the matter WILL come up in the future, I promise, I'm not going to leave you all with nothing.
> 
> Also: SUMMER CLASS NUMBER ONE COMPLETE! I just submitted my final before editing this so that's why I'm up and why this chapter is posted so early. I mean, it is Saturday. Just REALLY early on Saturday :)

Tuesday had arrived faster than you wanted it to. With Tuesday came the dinner and with dinner came responsibilities. Namely cooking, shopping, and hosting, although not in that order. 

You strode into the apartment and swiftly kicked the door shut. Your father wasn’t home, and as far as you were aware he would be arriving just before the guests. You unpacked the groceries you had just picked up, putting them all in their respective places. For some, that was the fridge, but you left out the ingredients you needed for that night. After a quick rinse of the vegetables, you set them out on the counter. You checked the time nervously. If you started now, you would be done just in time for their arrival. 

The kitchen was your domain. Well, mostly. Not everything always went perfectly, but you hadn’t started any fires yet so it wasn’t terrible. You went to work, pulling seasonings from the cabinet as the oven warmed. Garlic powder, dried rosemary, paprika, salt, and pepper rested on the countertop in a neat line before you slid open a drawer and retrieved a cutting board to set on the counter. As you bumped the drawer shut with your hip, you grabbed a knife in one hand and a potato in the other. You worked methodically, chopping the potatoes into uniform pieces and sliding them off the board and onto a sheet pan. You settled into the sounds of cooking in the city. It was much more serene without the distractions of shouting or a TV in the background. 

Your father entered sometime while you were making a mushroom sauce for the steak, which effectively killed your mood. 

“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked, even though he was still in his own work clothes himself. 

You flipped the stove burner off as the sauce finished. “My school clothes,” you answered. “I didn’t want to smell like food when our guests came. I was about to change.” 

You could see his jaw flex as he clenched his teeth. “Fine. Wear something nice, nothin’ too fancy. Maybe that blue dress, with the sleeves.” He gestured to his mid-forearm, demonstrating the length.

You raised your eyebrows. He was giving a suggestion?

“Don’t give me that look,” he ordered curtly. “They’ll be here any minute now, hurry up.” 

You changed your expression as you left to your room, but you were no less shocked internally. That was the longest civil conversation you’d had with him in probably two months. He had suggested a dress for you to wear, the dress you bought a few months ago for the New Year’s celebration at the precinct. You didn’t even know he remembered it.

It was rather simple, with a high collar and flowy, knee length skirt. Best of all, though, it had pockets. You wiped off your makeup before pulling it on. You needed to redo your makeup anyways, it hadn’t taken well to being in the kitchen. Your father hadn’t struck your face in almost two weeks, so the bruises had healed relatively well so far. They were almost gone. It was good because you didn’t need any extra layers of makeup to cover them. You selected an eyeshadow that matched your dress and a bit of lip gloss to finish the look. 

You were lucky to have finished your makeup when you heard a sound that hadn’t reached your ears since childhood: the apartment buzzer. You jumped at the noise, nearly causing the palate you had been using to crash against the floor. You made your way out of the room, unsure of what to do.

“That’ll be them,” said your father. You stood awkwardly as he entered the living room. He was dressed in slacks and a crisp shirt, rather than the uniform he had left in. “Hey, I’ll be right down to show you all up,” he said into the intercom, before turning around to face you. He gave you a simple nod and left quickly.

It was weird, realizing that these were the first guests you’d have since you had been in middle school. Really, that didn’t even count. Working on a project in the living room for a couple of hours wasn’t comparable to the dinner you were hosting. The nerves began to settle in. Was everything ready? The house was clean. The food was done. The table- The table! You unfroze at the thought. You needed to set the table. Five people. The table had four chairs, so you pulled a foldable chair from the corner of the living room, the same place they had been in since you were six. Plates were next. Or food? You set the food on the table, along with drinks and cups, before going to retrieve the plates. 

A knock sounded at the door before it opened. 

“Y/n!” called your father, a false happiness seeping through. “Come meet our guests. Please, come in.” 

You strode to the doorway quickly, plastering a smile onto your face. “Hi, sorry, I was just setting the table,” you apologized, setting the plates on the table as you passed. “I- Flash?” you questioned, caught off guard by his presence as he stepped through. 

“Y/n?” he questioned in return. He seemed equally baffled. 

One of the men cleared his throat. “Do you know this beautiful young lady, Eugene?” he asked formally. You tried not to laugh at the name as he glared.

“Yeah, we go to school together,”  _ Eugene _ confirmed. 

“Y/n,” you introduced, when Flash looked like he wasn’t going to. 

“Jacob Thompson, Eugene’s father.” You didn’t miss the stern look that he gave his son as he took your hand firmly. You shook his hand politely but were quick to pull away.

Your father introduced the other man as Sheriff Williams, although he insisted you call him Chris. A subtle nod from your father showed that you should follow. 

“Well, the food’s probably getting cold,” you said, gesturing to the table. “I’ll be back in a moment with the utensils.” 

You left the serving to your father as you grabbed the cutlery from the drawer. 

“Wow, Logan, did you really make all this for us?” questioned the Sheriff. You froze, slowly sliding the drawer shut. 

“Not alone, I had a bit of help from my daughter.” Your heart panged as he took credit for your work. “I hope you men enjoy it.” 

You forced yourself to take a deep breath and put on a smile, passing around what you had retrieved quitely. Your father had given you the smallest steak and had added an infuriating amount of salad beside it. You took an angry stab at the meal, schooling your features to be respectful. 

“You look nice,” said Flash, apparently choosing to make conversation with you instead of listening to the men’s small talk. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “Not too bad yourself.”

“Thank you. So, for over two years, I can’t even get your number, and now I’m at your house for dinner. Isn’t this a little fast?” 

Your eyes narrowed, but before you could say anything, your father jumped in sternly. “I heard that, young man.” 

Flash seemed incredibly intimidated by your father. You didn’t blame him, you were too. 

“It was a joke, sir. Y/n’s really... lots of guys like her,” he excused hastily. That was news to you, and a blush crept into your cheeks against your will. No one even talked to you. And really what? What had he been about to say? 

Sheriff Williams cracked a smile. “I bet you’ve got quite the job scaring them all away, huh, Logan?” he said. 

“Actually,” you interrupted, not enjoying the turn of conversation one bit. Your father shot you a look that you knew well, but you continued anyways. That look promised a talk later, but the type of talk had yet to be ascertained. “I’m really focused on my studies. The schools around here are so selective.” 

Mr. Thompson seemed to like your attitude on the matter. “Smart girl,” he complimented. “Are you taking any extracurriculars? Eugene here is on the Academic Decathlon team.” 

Your smile tightened at the reminder. “No, actually, I decided to pick up a job instead. I’m a waitress at a grill not too far from here, it’s called the Great Dane. They’ve got really good cheesecake brownies if you ever plan to stop by.” 

They took the suggestion into mind before they continued their conversation. You caught hints of it, something about how much Mr. Thompson had donated to the 13th alliance? Whatever that was. Probably a police union.

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, with the men eventually retiring to the living room to talk business over a few beers (or for Flash, a soda) as you began to pick up plates to wash in the kitchen. You were proud that there was nothing left over other than a small serving of salad. Even if your father had taken the credit, you knew it was your cooking. You basked in the self-appreciation as you washed off the platters and got started on putting the plates in the dishwasher.

“You’re a pretty terrible host,” said Flash, causing your gaze to move to him. He was leaning on the doorframe to the kitchen, arms crossed in front of him. 

“Touch me and I scream,” you threatened lowly. “And I’m one hundred percent certain that after your dinner comment, none of those three men would be surprised.” 

“Relax,” he said, pushing himself up. “My father sent me in here to help with the dishes.” 

You eyed him dubiously. “Don’t bother, I’m not doing these by hand, anyways.” 

He walked around in a bored circle. “Is there anything that I can do, then? I’m pretty sure I’ll get another earful about ‘missed opportunity’ if I step back out there.” 

You rolled your eyes, trying to think of something he could do to stay out of your way. “There’s a foil tray covered in plastic wrap in the fridge, set it on the countertop and preheat the oven. If you can figure out how,” you quipped. 

“That was unnecessary,” he replied, walking to the fridge with purpose. “What’s this?” 

“Dessert,” you replied. Scott had sent you home with a whole batch of cheesecake brownies after your shift the night before, requesting nothing other than that you gave him credit. It was his recipe, after all. 

He hummed appraisingly before making his way to the oven. “What did you want this on?” 

“Bake, three hundred degrees,” you told him, putting the last of the plates away. You watched, arms folded after you had washed and dried your hands. 

The buttons were relatively simple, so you weren’t all that surprised he managed to figure it out. 

“Congrats! I still don’t like you,” you said bluntly. “You did your part to help, now you can go out there and tell them I kicked you out because I don’t want you knowing what dessert is.” You took the pan of brownies from where he had set them and moved them closer to yourself. 

He put his hands up in mock surrender, leaving the kitchen as you had ordered. Good. Peace and quiet. You suddenly realized that you had left your phone in the kitchen as its black screen innocently showed your reflection. You wondered if you had received any miscellaneous notifications during the time it lay forgotten. 

**_History Buddy_** _:_ _1 message_

You unlocked your phone eagerly. The text was simple, one of the many you had exchanged since Mr. Stark invited you to the tower.  _ How’s the dinner? _

_ It sucks _ . You sent.  _ Somehow the kid that’s our age is Flash and the other two are Flash’s dad and the sheriff. The highlight was Flash’s dad calling him Eugene during introductions.  _

You corrected yourself a moment later.  _ Actually, the highlight was my dad catching Flash flirting with me at the dinner table. _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Really? _

**_You:_ ** _ I’ll tell you more later, gtg finish dessert. _ You covered the brownies in foil, setting them into the oven for seven minutes. You then made your way to the living room. 

“Dessert will be ready in a few moments but does anyone want some extra refreshments?” you asked politely. 

“We’re good, y/n/n,” said your father. The old nickname made your ears perk up, just like the buzzer earlier, and the dress suggestion before that. You hadn’t misheard it, you were sure. “Why don’t you have a seat? Or maybe you kids could go to the dining room? We need a moment to talk about business.” 

“Sure... Come on, Flash.”

You both sat down at the dining room table, but the conversation was nonexistent as you both pulled out your phones. 

**_You:_ ** _ Back!  _

_ So basically, Flash said that he knew my address and still didn’t have my number and my dad heard him so he (Flash) tried to correct himself by saying plenty of guys liked me (?? questionable but whatever). Then the sheriff said something about how many guys my dad had to scare away (Which is none, literally  _ _ 0 _ _ ) so I had to mention that I’m really just focusing on school. _

_ Seriously though it’s so weird, our parents kicked us out of the living room to talk business so now we’re both sitting on our phones.  _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Flash actually isn’t wrong.  _

_ There’s a lot of guys who think you’re cute. _

_ He’s not hitting on you? _

A frown tugged at your lips. Guys think you’re cute? Since when? This was the first you were hearing of it. Does Peter think you’re cute? You paused at the thought, not sure why it mattered, and decided to answer his question. _ No, actually. It’s kinda weird. Barely said anything to me all night. _

_ Guys think I’m cute? _

“Hey, y/n,” said Flash, drawing your attention from the text you had just sent. “My friends don’t believe I’m at your place.” 

“Okay?” You gave him a scrutinizing look. “Why did you feel the need to inform me of this?” 

“Because they want me to take a picture with you,” he stated. 

“No,” you decided. “I am not falling for this stupid gossip trap; that picture will be all over the school tomorrow.” 

“I promise it won’t be,” he said. “You won’t even have to smile.”

The oven dinged to alert you to take the brownies from the oven. Not willing to let them burn, you pushed away from the table. “Not happening, Flash,” you told him. “Your friends are all idiots, I’m pretty sure they would find it hilarious to post it all around the school.” 

“A picture of a picture then,” he bargained, following you to the kitchen. 

You handed him a stack of bowls and some spoons. Might as well make use of him. “Do you see any picture of me around here?” 

The question was rhetorical, but he answered it. “There’s one by the T.V from when a New Years party three years ago,” he remarked. “Also, are you planning to serve brownies in a bowl? Who eats them with a spoon?” 

“What?” you asked, nearly dropping the brownie pan. 

“Who eats brownies with a spoon?” he repeated. 

“Before that.” 

“There’s a picture from a New Years Party by your T.V?” 

Your father hadn’t put up any pictures since you were 10 and you hadn’t either. Beyond that was the fact that he had taken down most of the pictures as the years passed. “Huh,” you sounded, pulling out a box of ice cream from the freezer. “Come on.” 

“Sorry to interrupt, dessert’s done,” you said as you entered, Flash following behind you. 

Your eyes darted to the T.V table. Somehow, without you noticing, your father had set up a picture of the both of you, messing around with the photo props. You didn’t remember ever seeing it before, but you certainly remembered the party. The picture showed you in 8th grade, back when you could have a night with your dad without it feeling forced. You added the new puzzle piece to the confusion in your mind. 

You set the ice cream and brownies on the table before taking the bowls. “My boss let me take these home last night, so they’re not my recipe, but I can promise that they’re amazing.” 

You cut the brownies evenly, serving one to each of the men with a scoop of ice cream if they wanted. You sat back as they continued their conversation, the sheriff ordering that the fathers both let their kids stay and enjoy dessert. Apparently he had kids of his own that were grown and out of college, which segwayed into another discussion about you and Flash and plans for the future. 

You couldn’t be more relieved when the night came to an end. You weren't entirely sure if Flash took that picture, but you supposed you would be finding out soon. You changed out of your dress before picking up the bowls left behind and putting them into the dishwasher. 

Your father was relaxing in the living room when you returned. The T.V was turned on, but he didn’t seem to be thinking about it much. 

“Come and sit with me, y/n/n,” he invited. 

You sat as far away as you could reasonably and waited for him to say something else. 

“What’d you think?” he asked, swirling around what was left of his beer. Shockingly, he hadn’t even completed a full bottle during the evening.

“Of the guests? They were nice, I suppose,” you said. You had to be careful, you didn’t know what he wanted to hear. 

“Do you like the boy?” he asked, glancing over to you out of the corner of his eye. 

“No, sir,” you answered honestly. “He’s not really my type.” 

“You’re not into girls are you?” he asked. He was very open of the fact that he did not support the LGBTQ+ community. Even though you lived in New York and it was 2019.

“That’s not what I meant,” you answered. “Flash is just not my type. He’s a bit big headed. I don’t have time, anyways, like I said.” 

He seemed appeased. “And that history kid?” 

“Just school work.” You tried hard not to let your thoughts wander. “Can I go study with him during the long weekend? Just during the daytime, we want to get the project done.”

“Where does he live?” asked your father. 

“Um…” you weren’t really sure. “I’ll check.” 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Yeah, and a few girls too I think _

**_You:_ ** _ This is the first that I’m hearing about anyone other than Flash liking me... _

_ Hey, Peter, where do you live outside of the tower? _

You waited in silence for a message. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Queens, why?  _

**_You:_ ** _ No reason. _

“He lives in Queens,” you told your father. “But we were planning on checking out Stark Tower for most of the day, since that’s what the project is about, so we might study in a library or something.” 

He said a few impolite words about your project topic that had you worried. He was going to say no. “Is there going to be an adult?” he asked, taking a swig of his drink. 

“Uh... Well, we’re gonna be in public.”  _ For the most part, at least, _ you added in your head.

“Fine.” 

Your eyes widened. He was allowing you to go? You weren’t going to wait for him to change his mind. “Thank you, sir.” 

“You’re still setting up and coming to the Memorial Party, though,” he warned you. 

Of course there were conditions. You had been expecting that. “Of course, sir. Good night.” 

**_You:_ ** _ My father just said we can study together :)  _

_ Every day except for that Monday.  _

_ You’re still coming on Thursday tho, right? _

Your heart was racing as you thought about it. You were going to go study at Avengers’ Tower. You were going to meet Tony Stark. Tony Stark would be giving you a personal tour of Avengers’ Tower. What if you met the Avengers? How cool would that be?! Especially if you met the Black Widow. Peter said she was in town, didn’t he? 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Yeah! Thursday after school. I’ll see you tomorrow in class! _

And that was another one of the best parts… You got to experience it all with Peter Parker. Maybe you’d even meet Spider-Man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE SO CLOSE FRIENDS!! Two more chapters until the big day you've all been waiting for! Thank you all so much for your wholesome comments.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter ditches you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Staying up to write my final that's due in less than 24hrs that I uh, didn't work on? .... More likely than you think.  
> This chapter was not proofread, might repost later. 
> 
> I had to split this chapter in half, so I decided to do it by POV’s. It was _incredibly _long before I split it (I was in the MIDDLE of the chapter when I was like "ABORT ABORT this is feel like it's going nowhere bc I haven't started a new chapter but really there's too much going on). It was over 13 pages before I realized there was a slight problem… Up first: your POV__

When school was over, you did not make your way to the library as planned. You didn’t make your way home, either. Instead, you made your way to the King’s Brew Cafe. Peter had ditched you. His text said nothing more than  _ Something big came up and Mr. Stark needs my help with it, sorry.  _

Your anger was on the back burner for now, simmering just below the surface of understanding. If Scott had ever been desperate enough to call you at the last minute… Well, Scott knew you had school, he wouldn’t do that to you. 

You didn’t have work that night and your father had an overnight shift, meaning he’d be home for the next couple of hours. Or so you assumed. Regardless, you didn’t want to run into him any earlier than you had to. He knew you were planning to be out late. 

It was odd how lenient he had been after the dinner. He hadn’t asked for Peter’s address for the weekend, hadn’t asked where you would be staying out at, and hadn’t even asked how long you would be out. All you had said yesterday was “I have to stay after school to study” and he had accepted it.

You weren’t sure what to think about the personality switch. It was weird. It was scary. You wanted to hope that this was the turning point, that things would start looking up. On the other hand, you weren’t sure of anything. 

So you sat in your little corner in King’s Brew, out of the way, with a cup of tea to hopefully calm you down. You moodily colored in the small diagrams that you had made of a flying car, taking care with the shading. Your phone was on silent, face down beside your cup. 

You tried to convince yourself that you weren’t angry as a concentrated frown affixed itself to your face. You weren’t upset that Peter blew you off even though he knew you now had one less day to work on it. You weren’t upset that your idol, Tony Stark, who had personally invited you to Avengers tower, had disregarded your education like that. Most of all, you weren’t angry that Peter had missed your weekly study date. Platonic study date, that was. 

Eventually you plugged in your earbuds, tuning the world out as you pushed aside your history notebook to carefully color the unfinished works in your sketchbook. However much time passed didn’t really matter much to you, as long as the cafe didn’t kick you out. Since King’s Brew was open until midnight, that was highly unlikely.

You got unreasonably mad when the tip of the red pencil you were using snapped. You tried not to cause a scene as you ripped out your earbuds and flicked the notebook shut.  _ It’s just a pencil. It’s not like the world is ending, y/n. _

You pressed your hands to your face, cautious of your makeup, before shutting your eyes and massaging your temples.

Someone cleared their throat and you peaked at the person through your fingers. It was the man you had met almost two weeks ago, who was dating... What was his name? Steve. 

“Y/n, right?” he asked. He had a drink in one hand, the other tucked into his pocket.

“Yeah,” you answered, uncovering your face tiredly. Mocha Steve and storyteller... “James?” Your voice wavered with uncertainty.

“That’s me,” he nodded. “Mind if I sit down?”

You pulled your things closer to yourself and, after gathering some pencils that had been scattered around the surface of the table, you gestured for him to take the seat across from you. 

“So, how’s it going? How are you?” you asked. It was weird, making conversation with a somewhat stranger. You weren’t sure what to talk about. 

“Not bad, I’m alright,” he said lightly. “How about you?” 

“It’s going,” you smiled ruefully. “Anything interesting happen recently? Steve finally ask for a smores mocha, maybe?”

One corner of his lips turned up a little. “Nah, he’s out right now. Business trip to Norway. I wasn’t keen on going with him.” 

You hummed and nodded, taking a small sip of tea as you thought of what to say next. 

“Nice cup,” James said as you set the drink down. You spun it around to see what it said; you hadn’t had the time to read it when you grabbed it out the kitchen that morning and hadn’t paid attention to it since.

_ This drink makes me feel less dead inside. _ A somewhat accurate description for the tea it now held. “Thanks,” you replied. “It’s kind of my thing, mugs with sayings on them.” 

“Really?” 

You weren’t sure if his interest was fake or not, but you answered anyways. “Yeah. I have forty or so at home. They take up like half a cabinet.”

“What’s your favorite?” he inquired. 

You contemplated, thinking through a few that you had memorized. “I dunno, there’s a lot of good ones. It just depends on my mood when I get up in the morning.” 

“So, are you feeling less dead inside since you woke up this morning?”

You shrugged. Your day had kind of fallen apart since that morning, actually. “Sure,” you decided. You weren’t going to tell your problems to a stranger just like that; it was impolite.

James looked unconvinced, but made no comment. You sat awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say as you toyed with the broken pencil tip. 

“Can’t you get a splinter by doing that?” James’ brows were furrowed as you tapped your index finger on the edge. 

“Meh,” you shrugged. “Possible but unlikely.”

“I would bet anything that Stevie could name what color that is if he were here.” 

_ Stevie _ . That’s cute. You wondered if Steve called James  _ Jamie _ . “Well, it’s unfortunate that he isn’t here, then,” you smirked. “Maybe next time though, I’d bet five dollars that I can get a random color and he won’t be able to name it. The real name.” 

“Five dollars? I’ll take a picture of it,” he held out his hand, the other searching for his phone. 

“That’s cheating, he’ll see the color name,” you said. “Or you’ll tell him.” 

“I won’t tell him,” James promised. “Just put it on the table and I’ll take a picture. One picture. You can even cover the name with your hand. Five dollars.” 

Figuring that no harm could come from it, you set the pencil in the middle of the cafe logo. “Deal’s on.” 

“Just gotta say,” added James as he fiddled with his phone. “He’s probably in the middle of a flight right now, so it might take a while.” 

“What?” you objected. “He’s probably not going to get that before the cafe closes.” 

“We’ll see,” shrugged James. “So, what were you drawing?”

“I wasn’t drawing, really, just coloring in some of the stuff in my sketchbook,” you shrugged. You didn’t offer to show him and he didn’t ask. You went back to fiddling with your pencil.

You watched Bucky type out a few messages slowly before asking “Did he respond?” 

“He says that pictures aren’t always accurate and it depends on the pencil brand. And is basically telling me off for making the bet.” You noticed how he only typed with one hand, the other one resting on the table. He did a lot of things single handedly. You wondered if it slowed him down at all. 

“You boyfriend is smarter than you are, it seems,” you remarked wittily. 

James stared at you dubiously, ignoring his phone for the moment. “Stevie’s a dumbass,” he informed you, and even though his words were harsh, his tone was light. “He’s run headfirst into problems since we were kids. Don’t be fooled by his occasional smart comments.” 

You put your hands up in mock surrender. “If you say so.” 

James pulled out his wallet and a five dollar bill. “I am a man of my word,” he stated, sliding it across the table. “Steve didn’t name a color, that means I lost the bet.” 

“Thank you.” You took the bill from off the table, putting it in your wallet. 

“He’s asking what the name of the color is,” James mentioned casually. 

You rolled the pencil between your fingers, even though you knew exactly the name of the color. “Iron Man red.” 

He looked from his phone up to you, dark eyes staring intently. “Really?”

“It’s childish, I know,” you told him, rolling the pencil to him on the tabletop. “It’s a part of a set I got back in 2013. Y’know, after the whole alien thing? Iron Man red, Iron Man gold, uh…” You grabbed your pencil case, searching for the rest to show him. You held up a silvery pencil. “This color’s vibranium shield, after Captain America’s. Of course there’s Hulk green. Black Widow, if I can find the right black pencil… And Hawkeye’s arrow if I can find the right gray.” You pulled out a tannish-gray one that you found during your search. “This is named after Thor’s hammer, which is spelled so weirdly I won’t even try to pronounce it. And of course there’s Tesseract Blue, that stupid box. It’s a weird set of colors…” 

What he said next surprised you. “Do you mind if I send a picture to Steve?” 

You shrugged and laid out the rest. “Just give me a second to find the last two.” 

You searched through the bag, pulling out four other black pencils as James lined up the others. “This one is Black Widow.” After a bit more searching you added, “and Hawkeye’s Arrow.” 

James looked very mildly impressed by the collection. “He’s gonna love this.”

Your phone screen lit up with a notification. You gazed at it apathetically but picked it up regardless. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Hey, y/n! _

_ I’m sorry I had to cancel, we’re still on for the weekend, right?  _

_ We can call to discuss the project if you’re not busy?  _

_ I don’t have anything to do for a while. _

So, he was texting you because he was bored. That shouldn’t come as a surprise. 

“Everything alright?” asked James, pulling you from your thoughts. 

You locked your phone, setting it back on the table. At that point, you didn’t even care about the loss of a study day. “Yeah,” you responded pleasantly. “It’s just been a long day for me. I don’t really want to deal with the text I just got.” 

A glance out the window at the front of the store showed you how late it was getting. The sky was blue and quickly darkening. Sunset must have passed without your notice. Looks like your 'long day' was almost over. “I should get going,” you sighed. 

“Got a long bike ride ahead of you?” he asked, half sounding like he was joking. 

“I actually took the subway here today,” you corrected. “My study partner ditched me and I didn’t feel like going home, so now I’m here.” 

“Well then, I believe it would be a gentlemanly offer to walk you to the station, at the least,” he said, rising and offering a hand to you. “Rude of your study partner to leave you waiting here, though.” 

You raised an eyebrow at the offer, but took it anyways. “He didn’t actually leave me waiting. He sent me a text before the end of the school day to tell me he’d be gone. But I guess it doesn’t matter, I’m going over to his place to study this weekend, anyways,” you said, picking up your things and setting them back into your bag.

You exited the cafe together and James let you lead the way to the station. 

“Still rude of him,” said James. “Did he at least apologize?” 

“Sort of?” you said, thinking it over. “He said sorry. And he offered to call so we could talk about it, that was the text I was reading earlier when you asked if I was alright. I mean, his boss called him in apparently and then he got bored, so he texted me. Just like any other boy.” You huffed a breath and shook your head. 

“You say that like you were expecting him to be different. Do you… Like him?” asked James hesitantly. “Not that it’s any of my business, but-”

“No,” you cut him off immediately. “No. We’re just history partners.”

“You’re blushing.” 

“Am not!” you argued. “It’s just warm out. And I’m angry, not… blushing.” You could feel your face get redder with the statement. You never really contemplated it. Did you like Peter? He was certainly cute...

“Okay, Doll, whatever you say,” he smirked. “But what if he asks to kiss you while you’re at his house?” 

He was definitely just winding you up now. “Is that what Steve did to you?” you retorted, trying to control your still heating face. You hadn’t imagined anyone kissing you before. 

“Steve didn’t kiss me until we joined the military,” said James. “I told you last time, he did it cuz a dare.” 

“Really?” They were in the military? You gave him a look. James was buff, just like any young veteran would be. But you wondered what division he was in. It was a habit you had as long as you had lived; you tried guessing people’s division based on the stories your mother had once told you of all the people she had met. James… James would be special ops, you decided. “So what’s the story there, then? You just danced around each other for a decade until he was dared to kiss you?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Neither of us said anything until that night. We were celebrating a successful mission at a bar nearby. Everyone at the party was drunk except for us, so it’s not like they’d remember much. We wouldn’t have otherwise. Y’know, codes and stuff.” 

You laughed, remembering Steve’s comment about the irish coffee. “What a romance, the one who was too responsible to get drunk and the one with too high of an alcohol tolerance,” you muttered.

“Aha! Finally,” exclaimed James, a grin splitting his face. 

You turned to him in confusion. 

“You looked upset earlier,” said James shamelessly. “I’ve been trying to get you to actually smile this whole time.” 

Your confusion morphed into another genuine smile. “Really?” 

“Really.” A small smile of his own tugging at his lips. “I even thought you would smile if you won the bet and you didn’t.” 

“Wait, so you knew…” you gestured vaguely. 

“That I’d lose the bet? Of course. I was hoping you would feel accomplished but you just said thanks and took my money,” said James, a look of disbelief on his face. 

“That is no one’s fault but your own! You were the one to make a stupid bet,” you told him matter-of-factly. 

“I got you to smile anyways, though, so it doesn’t matter,” he brushed off, kicking some rubbish into the alleyway. “It was only five dollars.” 

“And now it’s mine. I could buy like, three chocolate bars with that money.” You pressed slightly closer to James as you passed a man smoking outside his apartment, careful not to be too far into either man’s space.

Regardless of your effort, the strange man leaned forward to pinch your behind as you passed.

You tensed at the pain, swivelling your head. He smirked, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette as he blew some smoke at you. You coughed and turned your head away. 

The man and his action had not escaped James’ notice, who shocked you once again by plucking the cigarette from the man’s hand with a gloved hand. “You know these ruin your lungs?” he asked callously before crushing the object under his shoe. “That said, I believe you owe my friend an apology.” 

A sneer crossed the stranger’s face. “It’s a compliment. Ain’t that right, sugar?” he asked, pulling out the pack. “Either of you- Hey!” 

James had pulled the box from the man’s hands and tossed them over to puddle on the street carelessly. “I thought I just told you those were bad for you. Although I’m sure trash like you wouldn’t be missed.” 

“He’s not worth a fight, James,” you said quietly, curled in on yourself slightly. “Let’s just go.” 

“Are you really gonna back down just because of a little girl?” provoked the man. He said something you didn’t quite hear before James’ fist met the man’s stomach with a hit that left him crumpled. 

“Maybe that’ll teach you how to treat a woman,” he growled. “Because I assure that no good man would ever treat a lady like that.” 

James backed up and glanced at you, but you wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Lets  _ go _ , James,” you pleaded. He listened that time.

You walked in silence the rest of the way to the station, a little more distanced than you had been at the start. “I don’t like that you did that, but thanks anyways,” you said quietly. 

“You don’t have to thank me, but are you sure you’ll be alright? Guys like that-”

You interrupted him easily. “Are a lot more common than you think. Besides, I actually carry pepper spray at all times,” you informed him sheepishly, pulling your keys from your pocket. The keychain from Scott was easily visible, decorated with Jalapeño-themed duct tape at Lauren’s behest. “I’m not totally defenseless.” 

James’ face was that of one willing to take what they were given. “Alright, well… Stay on your toes.” 

You had a sudden flashback to the previous sunday and the woman from table 14. Hadn’t she said the same thing? “I will. Hope you enjoy the rest of your night,” you wished him as you went into the subway. 

“Wait,” he said suddenly. You turned expectantly. He pulled out a small pocketbook with a pen and after searching on his phone, he scratched something down before ripping it off. “Let me know when you’re home safe.” 

You took the paper and added his number into your contacts. A small voice in your mind warned you that this was probably a terrible idea and that you knew virtually nothing about his character, but you ignored it...  _ He could be a human trafficker _ , your mind supplied,  _ or he could just be a new friend. _ He now knew you owned pepper spray, and he had also beaten up a guy who had harassed you less than ten minutes before. 50/50 shot in the dark, but you were willing to take it. After all, he hadn’t tried kidnapping you yet.

_ I will be fine. I have pepper spray. _ You sent him. 

“Alright, Doll, I got the point,” he smirked after reading the text. “See you around.” 

“See ya,” you returned and made your way down to your train. You checked Peter’s chat again about halfway through your ride and after plenty of contemplation. 

_ We’ll talk in class. _ There. Now he couldn’t say you were ignoring him. 

You were lucky that the station was so close to your apartment. You kept an eye out, keys in hand as you walked home. After the day’s stressors, you were already high strung, but letting down your guard wasn’t an option. Thankfully, though, the streets were empty. 

You set your bag down heavily after locking the door of the apartment. 

_ I made it home  _ you sent to James. 

You were graced with his reply several moments later.  _ Good. Now, isn’t it your bedtime or something? _

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t even 9 p.m yet.  _ Ha ha. You’re so clever -.- Take note of the sarcasm.  _

**_James:_ ** _ Note taken. Good night, y/*n.  _

Your name was misspelled ever so slightly.  _ Y/n _ you corrected.  _ So you can save it in your contacts. Anyways, thanks, enjoy your night. _

As an afterthought you added,  _ And tell Steve I say hi and that he should see if Norwegian coffee is any good. _

**_James:_ ** _ I’ll let you know what he says. _

You smiled and got ready to settle in for the night. You set your travel mug in the sink to be washed tomorrow. Even if it hadn’t been the coffee and tea the mug had held throughout the day, you certainly felt less dead inside since when you had awoken that morning. Peter had ditched you, some guy on the street harassed you, and your pencil had broken in the middle of coloring, but the day hadn’t actually been all bad. After all, you had managed a smile at the end of it. 

You sat idly on your phone, staring at your contacts. Exiting the application, you searched  _ black coffee _ and scrolled through until you found an image that matched James’ aesthetic. After screenshotting it, you set it as James’ contact photo. 

You now had your father, your coworkers, Peter, and James. It wasn’t a bad list, you decided. Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT: I ALMOST GAVE AWAY HALF THE DETAILS IN THIS CHAPTER WHEN I STARTED REPLYING TO A COMMENT!  
> I get so excited to be excited with you all that I almost replied to a reader (guest _iamamythicbitch_ ) regarding y/n's carelessness around Steve and Bucky and I nearly mentioned this chapter and I was like "WAIT i didn't tell them that yet! ah!" 
> 
> anyways, please leave comments, I love reading them so much. And thank you all for reading, you're all amazing.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter goes to Norway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a full grade on my final :):):) super happy about that, in case anyone was wondering. Thanks for all the luck and support, you're all amazing. 
> 
> Written in 3rd person POV

Peter hadn’t been doing anything special when the call came in. He had been in band practice when Tony explained the situation via text. Dr. Banner had managed to send a message to Tony from a ship that he was on after landing somewhere in Norway. Bruce was not alone, he had narrated, but was joined by the entire asgardian nation, Thor, and Loki. 

Which was a situation that called for all of the Avengers. 

Peter joined in eagerly, happy to have a reason to leave school early. He didn’t wait to be invited as he slipped into his suit and made his way to the tower.

He was met near the landing pad with a standoff between Tony and Clint, but wasn’t around long enough to understand why. 

“Break it up,” called a feminine voice from behind Tony. Natasha, still dressed casually. “Neither of us are going, Stark. We’ve got our own mission, in case you forgot.” 

Tony was not willing to pick a fight with Natasha. He knew he wouldn’t win, so he just crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, you guys are on a mission?” said Peter eagerly. He had been wondering why Clint had been around for more than a weekend. He originally assumed it was to spend more time with Natasha, but a mission made more sense. “Cool.” 

“Peter, what are you doing here?” interrogated Tony. “The school day isn’t over.”

“It’s just a study period,” said Peter, mentally adding  _ and photography _ . “Besides, you guys are going to meet Dr. Banner and Thor and Loki.”

Clint and Natasha exchanged a look. “Uh, didn’t you have something to do, kid?” said Clint. “Like a studying thing later?” 

“I did, with y/n, but I already texted her. It’ll be fine, she’ll understand. She’s coming over this weekend anyways, her dad said it was okay.” 

“Peter,” warned Tony. “You know how I feel about you skipping things to be Spider-Man.” 

Peter paid no mind. “We’ll study later, I mean seriously, this is so cool. When am I going to get a chance to do this again? I mean seriously, Dr. Banner? And Thor? And Loki? All together? I can’t miss being there, come on.” 

“No one said you were supposed to be on this trip to start with,” argued Tony. “What would May say?”

“But I’m here! And I wanna help them, Mr. Stark.” he begged, turning on the puppy eyes. “Come on, we went to Germany and May didn’t even know about the Spider-Man thing until way after. And she’s got another night shift, she won’t notice.”

“That was different,” Tony refuted. “Wildly irresponsible on my end. And a weekend. And I’m really having trouble believing May would let me live if I allowed this. Plus, it’s a four and a half hour flight,” added Tony, attempting to stave off his mentee. “You have school tomorrow and we won’t be able to do much in the middle of the night.” 

“I’ll do my homework on the way there and I’ll sleep on the ride back,” Peter countered. “Please Mr. Stark? You’ll need help dealing with Loki.”

“Loki isn’t supposed to be a problem anymore,” argued Tony, hands across the air as he spoke. “And I don’t want you anywhere near him.” 

“Then I won’t go near him! I’ll just help out while everyone else deals with him! Maybe I’ll help distribute supplies or something. And you’ll need extra help because Miss Romanoff and Mr. Barton aren’t going. Please? It can be a learning experience.” 

Tony couldn’t resist as he grimaced. “Fine. Fine, just this  _ once _ ,” he conceded, a single finger held up. Wheels up in fifteen.”

Peter grinned. Looks like the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was going to Norway.

Peter helped finish the rest of the packing, eager to get going and meet Dr. Banner and Thor and Loki. Apparently it would only be Peter, Captain America, and Mr. Stark on the trip there. All three of them were aware of the loss of sleep they would experience that night, but it was necessary. Peter changed out of his suit before he began his homework, as Mr. Stark doubted its necessity. 

It was nearly one in the morning, Norwegian time when they arrived at the coordinates Banner had sent them. Peter could see a large ship from the jet window as they landed. Few of its lights were on, just enough for it to be visible from the other ship. 

“It’s just a meeting and dropping off some supplies,” reminded Tony as the jet landed. He sent a message to Bruce in the meanwhile, letting him know of their arrival. 

Peter was bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for the jet door to open. Steve guessed it was apprehension, but Tony could tell it was excitement. 

“Hey, Pete, when the adults are talking I want you  _ hush _ , okay?” he commanded with a zipping motion. “This is really important.” 

Peter couldn’t help the small pout that his face expressed, but he nodded. He had gotten that far, he wasn’t going to ruin his chances of it happening again. 

Tony strolled off the ship first, obviously knowing where to go as he led the other two through the grassy field they had landed in. An illuminated staircase lowered from the ship, leading to a doorway where Dr. Banner stood, calm and collected with his arms folded. 

“So, you disappeared for two years and ended up on Asgard?” said Tony, a casual smile on his features as he skipped greetings entirely, making his way up the stairs hastily. His companions were close behind. “It’s nice to have my science bro back.” 

“It’s good to know you haven’t changed, Tony,” replied Bruce Banner, allowing the man to pull him in for a brief hug. “Steve, good to see you as well.”

“Same here,” said Steve, shaking the man’s hand happily before also embracing him.

“This is Peter,” introduced Tony quickly, clapping the boy on the shoulder as he introduced him. “He’s my intern, he really wanted to help so I brought him along.” 

“H- Hi, Dr. Banner,” said Peter, suddenly nervous about being in the presence of another great scientist. “It’s a great opportunity, um, to be acquainted. Your work is phenomenal. I learned about you in school. We kinda have pictures around the school of you, you contributed so much to the scientific community,” he continued as he shaked the man’s hand. 

“Oh… Thank you,” replied the scientist politely before addressing the group. “Come on, we’ll discuss in the meeting room. Uh, word of warning, Thor doesn’t look the same as when you last saw him. He sort of got his hair cut. And lost an eye. It’s a long story.” 

Tony seemed impervious, his stride not once faltering as they made their way into the ship. Steve tilted his head a bit but otherwise seemed equally and unaffected. Peter, while surprised, tried to follow the examples set for him as he stayed quiet. 

Thor was discussing quietly - something neither Tony nor Steve knew that he could do - with his brother when the group entered the room. There was a large table, surrounded with several chairs. The room was decorated sparsely, but it wasn’t unwelcoming. 

“Friends!” greeted Thor, a bright smile on his face. “And a youngling?” 

“This is Peter, he wanted to tag along. He’s my… apprentice, would probably be the word you’d understand most easily,” Tony explained as Peter waved hello. “So, Point Break, what happened to Asgardian justice for Mr. Worldwide?” Tony jutted his chin to Loki, who was dressed in his usual asgardian style garments. 

“A long story involving a prophecy, he means no harm towards anyone,” said Thor. “Alongside the fact that the land of Asgard has since been destroyed, which is the purpose of this meeting.” 

“We’ll get to that, but he’s a wanted war criminal,” said Steve crossly. 

“I would much prefer if I was not talked about as though I am not present,” said Loki. “I assure you that I have no ill will towards anyone on this planet.” 

Tony scoffed. “And  _ I _ assure  _ you  _ that I don’t trust you,” he shot back. 

Thor grew wary of the pair quickly. “I called to request aid,” he reminded them, his posture shifting. “But if you cannot provide that, perhaps it is best if you leave.” 

“Oh, we can,” assured Tony. “Provide aid, that is. But Reindeer Games over there is a wanted criminal for the death of several  _ hundred  _ people.” 

Loki fumed quietly, but he understood what the midgardians meant. He very narrowly refrained from a snide comment aimed towards Stark. “My actions were not that of my right state of mind,” he said silkily. “You have my word that I shall not leave the boundaries of Asgardian land once they are established.” 

Tony made a show of thinking over it. “Hmmm, yeah, what part of ‘I don’t trust you’ did you not get? Your word means nothing. SHIELD doesn't trust you either. Add in the fact that a homicidal maniac free on the streets would cause mass panic and you don’t have a pretty picture.” 

“What is it your government wants with me?” asked Loki bitterly. “Perhaps to imprison me like they did last time?” 

“To monitor,” answered Steve. “And to keep you away from the public. At least until the city is built and you can continue to serve whatever your sentence was.” 

“Monitor how?” questioned Loki quickly. He was not uncomfortable, but he would rather be focused on arranging a new city. 

“Constantly,” said Tony. “You’ll have a bit of freedom, no worries, but the moment you make a bad move… Well, I didn’t actually bother asking what would happen. Either you come with us peacefully or SHIELD comes over here and takes you by force. And I’m sure you know as well as I do that your people aren’t ready for a war.” 

Thor understood a threat when he heard one. His silence was apprehensive, he truly didn’t wish to agree, but the man had a point. To his surprise, however, Loki gave his consent. 

“Fine. Now if we could get to business, gentlemen?” he requested, gesturing to the table between the two parties. “Asgard is in need of supplies and proper shelter. Any aid you could provide would be appreciated.” 

Steve and Tony exchanged looks, not able to believe it was that simple.  _ Just take it for now _ , said Steve’s, in response to Tony’s  _ Do you really believe this? _

“We’ll circle back to that later, then. Let’s get to it,” said Tony, pulling out what appeared to be metal marbles and rolling them onto the table. They stopped at the edges with a zing before a hologram popped up. 

Tony quickly explained that the projection was the surrounding land before going into detail about the options Thor had for short term and long term, eventually getting into legal matters. Thor had also pulled out a few designs that Asgardians had made for comparison, as well as to see how each of the plans may be integrated. Peter, for his part, observed the interactions intently. Eventually they had reached the point of discussing the logistics for short term settling. 

“Stark Relief Foundation can help for about six months,” said Tony, thinking over the other projects they were focused on. “It’ll take over a year for a whole city to be built, though, maybe two for it to be stable.” 

“Help in what type of terms?” asked Loki. 

“Food, water, and shelter, if that’s what you’re asking,” answered Tony. “And legal support for getting land.” 

Banner, who hadn’t been paying all too much attention to the discussion, jumped in. “Six months would only take them to mid-winter, Tony, and we both know that’s when they’ll need help the most.” 

“That’s just on my end. It’s an international organization, we can’t drop everything and turn all our focus here,” explained Tony. “It’s not like we’d just leave them stranded. I’m still not sure about how much the Norweigin government would be capable or willing to cover, this is all in the scenario that you’re all even allowed to stay here.” 

Thor combed a hand though his now-short locks. “If I could have a moment with my brother?” he requested. 

“Of course,” answered Tony. The rest of the group left the room to the royals.

Steve was surprised by the notification from his phone. “There’s connection out here?” he wondered aloud, pulling his phone from his pocket. He had received a message. 

“Uh, yeah,” said Tony. “Of course there's connection here. I designed that phone, it gets signal pretty much everywhere. What, you miss a call?” 

Steve made a face at the picture Bucky had sent of a red pencil, with a caption asking him to guess the color. “I got a text.” 

**_Steve:_ ** _ Why? _

**_Bucky:_ ** _ For a bet.  _

Well that explained absolutely nothing. 

**_Steve:_ ** _ Why would you bet on me guessing the color of a pencil? It’s red.  _

**_Bucky:_ ** _ But what type of red? The actual color name.  _

**_Steve:_ ** _ I can’t tell that from a picture, they’re not always accurate. And it depends on the pencil brand. Why did you bet on that though? How much? _

**_Bucky:_ ** _ $5. Y/*n from the coffee shop looked like she was having a bad day. _

**_Steve:_ ** _ What? _ Hadn’t Bucky been the one to advise Steve away from the shop?

**_Bucky:_ ** _ What are you what-ing? She’s a sweet kid. Reminded me of you when you get upset during an art block. So I decided to talk to her. Cheer her up. _

**_Steve:_ ** _ What are you even doing there? _ Bucky didn’t even care that much for coffee. Steve can’t imagine why he would go out to a coffee shop without someone else requesting it.

**_Bucky:_ ** _ They sell tea here, you know. Also, y/*n seems really upset over whatever is bothering her. Winning the bet didn’t seem to improve her mood. _

That didn’t sound good. Steve frowned, not sure what to say. He settled on  _ Don’t push her to tell you, Bucky, you barely know each other.  _

_ What’s the actual name of the color though? _

Bucky didn’t reply immediately and Steve flipped his phone between his hands as he waited, contemplating what had been discussed in the meeting. His screen lit up with a new notification and he unlocked it instantly.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the color names. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

“Everything alright over there?” asked Tony who was having a discussion with Bruce and Peter.

“They came out with an Avengers themed coloring pack and I don’t have one,” Steve complained. 

“Really?” asked Peter eagerly. “Am I in there?” 

Bruce gave Peter an astonished look as Steve shook his head. “Maybe a newer version. This is probably from when we all started.” 

“Oh, okay, that’s cool. Can I see?” Peter requested. 

Steve flipped his phone around for Peter to inspect the image. Tony approached as well. 

“You’ve got two colors named after you, Tony. The rest of us only have one. Mine’s not even named after me,” pointed out Steve in mock disappointment. 

“Guess I’m just that much better,” jested Tony, handing the phone back to its rightful owner. “What are these, Crayola?” 

“No idea, Bucky just sent it to me.” 

“Wait a minute, we have signal,” said Peter, as if he had just realized the fact. He whipped out his phone.

Tony turned to face him, a puzzled look on his face. “Yeah. We said that a while back.”

Peter was typing frantically. “I promised y/n we could call or text if nothing works out,” he explained. “Y’know, for the project. And I’m not doing anything right now, well, except listening, but there isn’t much to do here, y’know? I can’t believe I forgot about that.” 

“Yeah, I’m still not happy about it,” voiced Tony. “Did you at least get some work done on the trip here?” 

“Yeah, of course. All my homework is done,” said Peter. His jaw fell open a moment later. “She left me on read!” 

Steve was still growing used to the modern world, but he understood the connotation of being left on read. “To be fair, you did leave her alone to be here,” he casually mentioned. “She’s probably not very happy about that.” 

“Capsicle’s got a point, kid,” seconded Tony, regret pooling onto his face. It was sort of his fault, wasn’t it? He should’ve given Peter a hard no. 

“Did you really want me to just wait at the tower all day? And then it’d just be you two on the trip here and that sounds like- like it’d be boring,” said Peter, stumbling over his words slightly at the end. He scratched the back of his neck nervously. 

Steve thought that it would certainly have been a lot quieter of a ride, but he didn’t voice his thoughts aloud. After all, he had once been in Peter’s spot: a scrawny 17 year old kid who wanted to prove himself in any way he could. 

“Me and Cap can handle ourselves, Peter,” Tony told the sheepish teen. “We’re not best buds but we’re adults.” 

“I didn’t say that you couldn’t!” replied Peter. “Just that after- well… y’know.” 

Bruce cleared his throat. “I don’t,” he said slowly. “Did I miss out on a lot?” 

“Only two years,” answered Tony. “Although I’m not sure if flowers and chocolate will be enough to make up for that.” 

“Tony,” admonished Steve as Bruce grew flustered. “Now’s not the time.” 

“Sooner is better than later, Cap,” he defended. “After all, if he’s going to be staying at the Tower…” 

Peter didn’t know that, a fact he questioned loudly in the form of repeating the statement. 

“Peter, buddy, volume,” said Tony quickly. “People are probably asleep. The plan is for him to join the rest of us at the tower, yes.” 

Peter didn’t get the chance to share his excitement as Thor opened the door to the meeting room for the group to re-enter. 

The conclusion of the meeting was uneventful, with the brothers informing the rest of their decisions.

“Is there truly no way to accelerate the timeline?” checked Loki, his eyes subtly conveying the worry he felt.

Peter couldn’t help himself as he blurted out, “I’m sure Shuri would have a few ideas.” The men all turned to Peter. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Loki. 

Tony gave Loki a threatening look. “Don’t talk to him.” Steve nudged Tony’s foot with his own, warning Tony to reel in his temper.

Thor spoke in place of his brother. “Perhaps you would be willing to explain who this Shuri is?” he prompted. 

Peter looked to Tony in askance. Tony sighed and waved a hand in approval. “Um… Well… There’s this kingdom called Wakanda and they’ve got this super advanced tech. And Princess Shuri is the best um… engineer that they have. Asgard has engineers, right?” 

Loki quirked a brow as Thor smiled and responded with an affirmation that Asgard indeed had engineers. 

Tony sighed as he contemplated Peter’s proposal. “He’s got a point,” he heard Steve whisper. 

He rubbed a hand down his face. “Okay, okay, we’ll see what they can do to help too. How much supplies do you all have currently?” 

“Last time we took inventory we had enough for about fifteen days if we stretched it,” said Loki. “That was about three days ago.” 

“Not bad,” acknowledged Tony. “I brought a few more days’ worth with me. We could probably meet here again in ten days, if we’re going to bring Wakanda into this. It’s cutting it close, I know, but I’ll probably be able to get more supplies before then. I’ll certainly have them on that day at the latest.” 

The meeting ended on that note before the Avengers, a few Asgardians, and Peter assisted in unpacking the cargo on the jet. 

True to his word, when all work was complete, Loki boarded the ship. He even allowed himself to be handcuffed, but drew the line at a muzzle. He instead negotiated that he’d remain silent the entire journey to wherever his prison was located. Tony was quick to correct him, but didn’t say where he’d be staying loud enough for Peter to hear, even with his spider senses. Loki barely avoided visible surprise as he heard it, dubiously asking if Tony had actually agreed to it. 

The billionaire rolled his eyes, answered with a short yes, and threatened to shackle the god’s feet if he didn’t get in the jet and shut his mouth. Loki raised his cuffed hands in surrender and walked onto the ship as instructed, with Thor promising he’d visit at his first chance. 

Tony took a moment for himself as the jet took off with four humans and one alien. All he had wanted was a peaceful weekend to see his wife and meet Peter’s new friend… and now he had an Asgardian Prince who had previously attempted to take over the planet. Tony reminded Peter of his promise to sleep on the return trip, waiting for acknowledgement before joining Steve and Banner in catching up on the events of the last two years. 

It was going to be a long weekend, that was for sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I … really don’t like this chapter but I don’t really know how to fix it right now... It’s a work in progress. This is a bit of a wonky chapter. It just doesn’t feel as smooth as I normally write. Somehow it just feels more disconnected than usual. Maybe it’s because it’s set in Norway??? I know that it’s because there’s no single POV here and I didn’t really specify sections for each character to “narrate,” but this my best way to have all the Important Stuff in here. Thanks for reading and for leaving comments, they literally bring smiles to my face.
> 
> And because I know you're all excited... Next chapter summary: In which you tour Avengers' Tower.   
> Just THINKING about it makes me SO HAPPY, I am Screaming inside. Next week!!!! :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first visit to Avengers' Tower, Pt. 1: In which you tour Avengers Tower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ve all been waiting… The day is here! I’ve had so many ideas!! Unfortunately, not all of them could come to fruition, so this is Part One of what I came up with.

You stood in front of your mirror, taking in your appearance. You changed your outfit five times now. Clothes were sprawled around your room as you tried to decide what to wear. You now had on a thin long sleeve and dark jeans, paired with flats. That was as perfect as it would get, you decided, spraying on a light perfume. You grabbed the small bag you had prepared the night before as you passed it.

“Home before seven,” your father reminded you on your way out. 

You took a breath, still surprised he was even letting you out. “Yes, sir.” 

You had promised Peter you’d meet him at the tower at 10 a.m. The conversation between the two of you was forced yesterday, and you were almost positive that it was due to your own anger. Hopefully today would go much better. 

You had been dreaming of this day practically your whole life, and it was here. You were going to meet Tony Stark and possibly the Avengers. You were going to meet Tony Stark and have a personal tour of Avengers’ Tower. _ You were going to meet Tony Stark _ . The thought kept racing through your head as you took the train there, not quite processing as you moved on autopilot. 

It was impossible to live in Manhattan and not know the location of the tower, but in case you didn’t remember, there were several signs pointing out the tourist attraction, which was only a short walk from the train station. Your heart was racing when you finally arrived, standing in front of the doors awkwardly. 

The building was closed to the public on weekends and had limited hours on weekdays, the reason being that it was mostly used for business. You knew there was a space in the lobby where students could relax and use the high-speed internet, but you had only been there once or twice. Of course there was a store inside of the building, should anyone in New York be searching for the best in cell phones, laptops, or entertainment systems, but that was about it. The public spaces weren’t currently open, though, nor were you a businessperson with an office inside. You were simply you. Which meant you needed someone to let you in.

Your phone nearly slipped from your hand as you retrieved it. Time to call Peter. You hesitated. Should you wait for Peter? It was almost 10. Maybe for a couple minutes? Before you could actually drop your phone, you tapped the little phone icon by his contact. 

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. “Hey, y/n,” he said as he answered the phone. 

“Peter! I’m outside the main entrance. Just… wondering where you are.” You made an effort to slow your speaking down to a normal pace.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I’ll be down in a minute. If you turn… So if you’re facing the entrance, go left and turn the corner. The third door you see.”

“Left... Damn, this place is huge.” You followed his instructions, walking around the large building to what looked like a private entry for trucks or other vehicles. “Third door?” 

“Yeah,” he answered, pushing it open. “Heyyyy,” he greeted as he saw you. 

“Hi,” you grinned, practically running to meet him as you hit the end call button. “This is cool. Side entrance?” 

“ _ Avengers’ _ side entrance,” he chipped in. “Mr. Stark said he’ll meet us in his lab, but while we’re down here we have access to this whole floor. So, come on. I’ll show you around.” 

Peter showed you over to the main entrance, which he explained was connected in case Tony ever needed to come down for anything. He also pointed out lounges, a small cafe area, the business elevator for employees and guests, the history area (which he promised to come back to, if you really wanted), and then led you back to the Avengers’ elevator, which he mentioned led to several additional floors. 

“Hey, FRIDAY, mind taking us to Mr. Stark’s lab?” requested Peter, as he entered. “Let him know we’re on our way up.”

“Sure,” answered the AI as the doors shut. One of the buttons to the right of the door glowed blue, showing you where you’d be going if you paid attention to the number. 

“Wow,” you commented, rubbing your sweaty palms on your pants. “Does FRIDAY run through the whole building?” 

“I think so,” said Peter. “Although I don’t think anyone from the business sector knows. She has access to the security feeds and everything, though, Mr. Stark says it helps him keep track of things in case something happens.” 

The elevator dinged quietly as the doors opened, and you found yourself frozen in place. The door opened out to some sort of hallway, with plenty of glass showing off the rooms it led to. 

_ This is really happening. Oh my goodness, this is  _ really  _ happening. _ The thought that you were actually meeting  _ the  _ Tony Stark had finally processed. 

“Y/n? Come on.” Peter was holding the elevator door open, waiting for you to follow. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Just... nervous.” You walked forward shakily, worried that he would be able to hear your heart pounding in your chest.  _ You were actually about to meet Tony Stark. _

“Don’t be,” he advised. Peter opened the glass door easily, as though it was something he was used to doing.  _ It probably is _ , you realized. “Hi Mr. Stark,” he chirped, holding the door for you. 

Mr. Stark was standing against a countertop, waiting. “Good morning, Peter. And you must be y/n.” 

You tried to mask your nerves with a smile as you shook his hand. You hoped you hadn’t let go too quickly, but you really didn’t like touching people- even your idol couldn’t get through that fear, it seemed. “Uh, yeah. Hi. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

He waved off the formalities. “Feel free to call me Tony. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. Now, I believe I promised a tour. This is my lab, there are a few others in the tower, but none quite like my own. We’ve got six floors dedicated to R and D right now, which are the six directly below this one. On the other side of this floor is Bruce’s lab, but I doubt he’s there right now so we’re not gonna visit. You can walk around if you want, everything dangerous is already put away.” 

You looked around the room as he spoke. Your eyes snapped back to him at the offer and he nodded in encouragement. “Are you working on anything, Peter?” you asked quietly. Maybe that would be the best to start with. 

“Yeah!” he said eagerly, bounding over to a corner. You followed him as he explained something to do with the web shooters for Spider-Man. You nodded along respectfully until your eyes locked onto a computer screen nearby. 

“What’s that?” you wondered. A set of symbols filled the screen, different from anything you had seen before. No, that wasn’t true. It was mostly numeric, you realized, once your eyes had adjusted to the speed.

“Decryption program,” answered Tony. “Although it keeps failing, which makes me a bit upset, I’ll be honest. Can’t be perfect at everything, though.” 

You tilted your head. That was unfortunate. “How long does it take to run through?” Your eyes watched the symbols flash past, trying to find patterns in the white blurs. Your fingers itched to stop the program and see it for yourself. 

“About five and a half minutes per seven gigabytes, for most things.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. That was on the faster end. Surely enough, a few moments later, the program failed and a new screen came up. You glanced away, trying to find something else to focus on. “Impressive,” you mumbled, taking in the tech scattered around the rooms. 

“Thanks,” answered Tony. “If you have questions about anything else down here, you can ask.” 

Your eyes darted from the various equipment to the computer again as you walked further into the room. 

“You know, Mr. Stark already let me have a shot at it, maybe you could try seeing what’s wrong,” said Peter. “You probably know how to code better than I do, anyways.” 

As much as you wanted to take the offer, you declined quickly. “Oh, oh no. I wouldn’t want to mess anything up. I’m sure a lot of effort went into that program, Peter.” 

“I can always fix it. It might be worth a shot to collaborate with others,” shrugged the engineer. When you met his eyes, they were sharp and focused. You broke the contact quickly. “But I’m sure I can figure it out eventually. Why don’t you-” he waved his hand towards the lab “-explore a bit? See what else you find interesting?”

You nodded, glancing back at Peter as you took a few steps away. He gave you a small smile and shrugged. “Mr. Stark usually focuses on making suits and weapons for the Avengers.” 

You strolled past a pair of gloves and a set of magnets before stopping. In front of you was the black object Mr. Stark had been working on during Peter’s first “interview.” You could now tell that it was a foldable bow, likely for Hawkeye from the sound of it. You catalogued each individual part with an inquisitive gaze, picturing how it would later come together. Except for one. 

“Are they here?” you inquired, eyes narrowed at the piece. “The rest of the Avengers?” Your hand floated for a moment before you pulled it back. Mr. Stark probably didn’t want you touching his stuff.

“Most of them. Thor’s in Norway right now, because-.” 

Peter was interrupted by Tony. “Maybe we should go around the rest of the tower, see who’s all here,” he proclaimed with a clap. 

You followed them out into the elevator as Tony commented on who was likely to be where. “I mean really, they could be anywhere, everything I just said could be wildly off the mark. There’s usually someone in the training room, though. Oh, and don’t be surprised if Clint joins us from one of the vents, he does that sometimes.” 

_ What? _ You mouthed to Peter. He only grinned, stepping out onto the black gym floor. 

The room - if you could even call it that - was spacious. It had more than you could imagine fitting into one area, but it was far from clustered. 

“Let's go for a lap around, shall we?” Tony suggested. You all walked onto the track in the middle, surrounding a basketball court. “So, as you can see, we’ve got a full sized basketball court. That room over there is storage for all the sports equipment, like the nets for badminton, volleyball, and tennis and all the other stuff. There’s also baseball supplies, but you know what they alway say, don’t play ball in the multimillion dollar tower.” 

You laughed a bit at the cheesy joke. Some of your anxiety melted as you kept the smile on your face.

Tony grinned and kept talking. “You can see on that end we have some weight equipment and the climbing rope. There’s a space for sparring and gymnastics too. Over here are the fitness machines. I tried getting a pool on this floor but Pepper said no because there’s a pool on the party deck.” 

You had almost forgotten. “Is Ms. Potts around? Peter said she was supposed to get back this weekend. If she isn’t busy maybe we could ask her some questions?” you asked, trying not to get more excited than you already were. Virginia “Pepper” Potts was another long-standing role model of yours. In fact, you had wanted to meet her before you wanted to meet Mr. Stark. Being a CEO of a company in a predominantly male business was no sinecure, and her endurance through the years made her an icon.

“She got home last night. I’ll take you up to my floor and introduce you later, sound alright?” he asked. 

“That would be amazing, thank you.” 

He led you off the track and to a heavy door, which he opened. You followed him and Peter through to see a wall lined with circular targets. 

“This is the weapons room,” said Tony, walking further in to peer through a door. “Doesn’t look like anyone is using the shooting range. Weird. I wonder where they all are...” 

Even with the knowledge of the room’s purpose, your eyes widened when they caught sight of the wall beside the door. Sharp objects, ranging from various colored arrows to several sets of knives, were organized neatly. Beside them, the wall was lined with several types of guns.

Tony led the way out of the room quickly after, showing you to a dance studio and physical therapy room and then back to the elevator. He explained the floors of the tower as he did so, mentioning which floors were dedicated to what- or who, in the case of the Avengers’ apartments. He’d show you to the party deck and main lounge, but was otherwise letting people have their privacy, which you understood entirely. 

You were taken aback by some indistinct shouting as you entered the next floor. You could have sworn someone said “I’m about to red shell your _ dumb ass _ into the next race course!” 

“They’re playing Mario Kart,” whispered Peter by way of explanation. “It gets pretty intense.”

You tugged your sleeves over your hands, not sure what else to do. 

“Don’t mind the noise, I am sure they would love to meet you,” said Tony warmly, leading you to the living room. You shuffled closer to Peter, not really wanting to walk into a room full of strangers but respectfully doing so anyways. 

“Hey, guys, remember when I mentioned that Peter was bringing a friend over? Meet y/n.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this a lot while I was writing other chapters, so I think it's okay... I'm only up right now to post since I have a migraine that won't let me sleep and I plan to sleep in until noon. But you all deserve a chapter today and I might as well be productive in my suffering. (: 
> 
> Also, and I am very sad to say it, RIP to Chadwick Boseman, the great King T'Challa (amongst many of his other roles). It was not something I was at all expecting when I woke up and casually checked my phone, but it was unfortunately the first bit of news I saw today. Boseman was an amazing actor in the MCU. He played his role incredibly well and touched the hearts of many of us. May he rest in peace.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your first visit to Avengers’ Tower, Pt. 2: In which you meet the Avengers and have lunch with Pepper Potts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me at 1:40 A.M, in the middle of writing Chapter 40 : OMG IT'S SATURDAY!  
> Also: I started school this week so my writing time will definitely be cut down. However, like mentioned above, I'm already writing ahead!

The group’s attention turned to you and your eyes widened in recognition of the first pair you’d set your sights on. 

“You look so different without caps.” 

The words had fallen tumbled your lips before you could fully process them. Your hands flew up to your mouth immediately after. “I am so sorry! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, I swear, it was just the first thing that came to mind. I’m sorry.” 

The super soldiers laughed as you frantically tried to correct yourself. 

“No, no, don’t apologize. It’s fine, really,” Steve was quick to say as he rose. “So, you two attend the same school? Share a class?” 

You and Peter answered at the same time. “Yeah, we’ve got history.” 

“The class,” you clarified after you had both shared a look. “And a project to work on, which is why I’m here.”

“Do you two have history?” asked Tony, motioning between you and Steve. “You know, actual history.” 

“Uh, by strange coincidence, we met a few weeks ago,” you explained sheepishly. “He was at my favorite coffee shop and looked like he needed a recommendation. This is a bit weird. Not that anyone is making it weird!” you rushed out. “Just, I dunno, not expected. Small world, huh?”

“Looks like it." You recognized the speaker as Hawkeye. “Do you want to take a seat?”

You finally realized that you hadn’t introduced yourself to the others. Although you weren’t sure it was needed.

Normally you would never remember diners from the Dane for more than a day - there were just too many people to count- but the redhead in front of you was hard to forget, especially with the highlights you had admired. She raised an eyebrow at you and you looked away. You didn’t want to explain another story, but you also didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it before.  _ What the hell? This is crazy. _ “Um, actually, Mr. Stark was just showing me around the tower.” 

“We can take a break for a bit,” he offered. There were too many people looking at you. You desperately wanted to get out of there, but it’d be more respectful to stay. 

“Sure,” you squeaked, straightening your shirt as you shuffled over to a chair on the other side of James, near where the Widow was standing. “So, the Avengers play Mario Kart in their free time?”

“We do,” confirmed Steve, taking his seat again. “Is that going to be the next news headline?  _ ‘Hawkeye sent Flying off Rainbow Road _ .’” He held his hands up as though he were framing the imaginary headline. 

“You wish,” scoffed the archer. “More like  _ ‘Hawkeye Decimates Captain America in a Battle of Wits and Speed. _ ’”

The group looked familiar with each other, and even Peter seemed to fit in easily. It felt like you were intruding on a family moment as they all began talking about who was more skilled at what games. You gave them a small smile as you tucked your shaking hands under your thighs, watching their antics silently.

“Are you cold?” James questioned softly. You tried to make yourself smaller when you realized the question was directed to you; you hadn’t realized anyone was paying attention to you. Steve turned around to face you as you shook your head.

“I’m fine,” you answered. Honestly, you were a little chilly, the downside of the outfit you had chosen that morning, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. 

You didn’t like the feeling of James' eyes searching yours, and so you turned to inspect the TV screen. This buch really enjoyed their unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, didn’t they?

“Hey, does anyone want lunch?” suggested Steve, a few minutes later. You mentally berated yourself for jumping at the unexpected shout. You were in Avengers’ Tower, by all means you should have felt well protected; these people fought crime for a living.  _ Although that isn’t much of an argument, considering your experience _ , said a voice in the back of your mind. You forced your train of thought away from where it was travelling. No need to get dark and depressing. 

Mr. Stark checked his watch. “Actually, I promised Pepper I’d have lunch with her and it is around that time, isn’t it? Peter, y/n, we can spend some more time here after you work on your project.” 

You stood up quickly and followed the other two out after some hasty goodbyes. Mr. Stark inserted a key into a space near one of the buttons in the elevator before he pressed it. 

“Me and Pepper wanted some extra privacy,” he explained. “Technically, I could always have FRIDAY unlock it, but it’s classier this way.” 

Tony Stark wasted no time calling out for his “beautiful wife” as you stepped into the apartment. It was extremely well decorated, you thought as you glanced around. It looked chic and clean, but also warm and well loved. An interesting balance between modern and rustic, but very aesthetically pleasing.

Mr. Stark led you to the kitchen, where Pepper Potts was working on lunch. She was dressed down in comparison to her usual suits, but still looked put together in denim shorts and a white shirt.

“You’re just in time,” she smiled, accepting a quick kiss from her husband. “You must be y/n, it’s great to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” you gushed, shaking her hand. “Do you need any help with lunch?” 

“Oh, no, sweetie, I’m fine. You're our guest.” That was really weird to actually hear.  _ I can’t believe I made it this far.  _ “Come on, have a seat you three. I’m almost done. Do you have any allergies?” she checked. “I should have asked before I made lunch, I’m sorry.” 

_ Wow, she’s so nice _ . Her behavior reminded you that even the stars were people like everyone else. “No food allergies, it’s fine,” you said.

“That’s great. You get to enjoy everything. Including these chicken wraps.” Ms. Potts slid a plate in front of you and Mr. Stark followed with plates for himself and Peter. 

“Do you mind if I wash my hands real quick?” you asked. “It’s just a habit.” 

[A/N: I sincerely hope you do actually do this because 1) food tastes better when there isn’t dirt/dust on it and 2) it helps to prevent you from getting sick (... not saying COVID, but also definitely COVID, and plenty of other Bad Bad things)]

“I am the same way, go ahead. You can use the kitchen sink or the bathroom is down that hall to the left,” she informed you, pointing to the hall she mentioned. 

You thanked her and made your way to the bathroom quickly. You were desperate for some time alone, even if it was only a few seconds. 

You quickly discovered that even the bathroom was far more elegant than necessary, but you supposed that billionaires didn’t need to spare any expenses. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection as you processed the day’s events leading up to that moment. You had been expecting to meet some Avengers during your visit, but having already met half the original team? That was just crazy. 

Add in the fact that the Black Widow had actually  _ spoken  _ to you? Before you even got there? Somehow her warning that evening just felt all the more ominous. Had she been following you? Why? An image of the two men from that evening came to mind, but you shook it off. They were just two diners, even if they did give you the creeps. And the two agents you had met were the exact same way. Two diners and a lot of pure coincidence.  _ The Avengers have better things to do with their time than stalk you, y/n. Even if you already met half the original team, it was  _ coincidence _. C o i n c i d e n c e. Nothing more.  _

You returned to the table with a smile and clean hands, excited to try the chicken wrap. Mrs. Potts was in the middle of telling Peter about a time that Mr. Stark had tried to apologize with strawberries, but she restarted the story as you took a seat, briefly encouraging you to eat.

“This is really good,” you complemented after the first bite before going in for another.

“It’s one of my favorite lunches,” Mrs. Potts said, taking a bite of her own. “It’s really easy to make, do you want the recipe?” 

“That would be amazing,” you smiled.

“I’ll be sure to pass it on before you leave. Tony told me you and Peter are working on a project,” she said conversationally. 

Peter nodded, quickly jumping in. “Yeah, we wanted to ask you a few questions, actually.”

“If you have the time,” you tagged on, eagerly taking another bite of the wrap in your hands. 

“Well, I certainly have time right now, if you want,” she replied kindly. 

That caught you a bit off guard as you quickly thought about how to take notes. “Uh… do you mind if I record?” you asked. “Just audio, I just don’t want to miss anything later.”

“Go ahead!” she agreed readily. “I just hope I can answer your questions.” 

You set up your phone, subconsciously hoping they didn’t judge as you thought over some of the questions you had been meaning to ask your whole life and the questions you needed for your project. “So, Mrs. Potts and Mr. Stark, thanks for having me and Peter over,” you began awkwardly. Peter sent you a look and you pointed to the phone. 

The business owners both accepted the introduction pleasantly and Peter asked the first question. “I asked Mr. Stark a little while ago what the company’s current focus is. He said you might be better equipped to answer that question, so maybe we could start with that?” 

Pepper glanced at Tony before answering. “Well, Stark International just finished our biggest project a few months ago, and that was focused on outreach and expansion to make the company what it is today. We’ve kept our focus on clean energy for several years now, we don’t plan on stopping that any time soon.” 

“So how do you use clean energy within the company?” you wondered. “I understand Stark Tower - Or Avengers’ Tower - is self-sustaining, in a way?” 

Tony heeded the question. “Not quite, it’s a small misconception,” he said. “Self-sustaining would be more like… solar panels, generating energy from the space it takes up. The tower receives energy from an arc reactor, which is powered by an element I discovered that scientists are currently scrambling to name but I’m pretty sure might end up being called Starkonium.” He went on to describe the basic mechanics of how an arc reactor worked, hands demonstrating as you watched and listened attentively. He concluded that most of the larger facilities had adopted the technology and that there were plans to implement it across the board. 

“What about for consumer use? Can people expect, say, laptops that never need to be charged in the near future?” you asked. 

“Near future is very general,” Mr. Stark pointed out cautiously. “This technology isn’t very cheap, either. Now, that doesn’t make it any less sustainable, it’s certainly a less expensive alternative than other current resources. Let’s talk about laptops though, do either of you know the average lifespan of a laptop?”

“I’ve had mine for the last three years, but I bought it used,” answered Peter. Stark sent him a look you couldn’t read before turning to you expectantly.

“I’ve never had one, but from my knowledge most new laptops last about four years with all their original parts, if you take good care of it.”

“Precisely,” agreed Tony. “Now, let me explain something to you. The weight of the material powering this entire tower is no more or less than three ounces. That’s about the weight of three double-A batteries and should last me for another two years without being replaced. It takes up less than half space of three batteries. Are you seeing where I’m going with this?” 

You thought it over as you chewed a bite of your chicken wrap. “A battery made of - let’s call it Starkonium, for the sake of clarity - would be difficult to fit to the lifespan of a laptop.” 

“Aced it,” he confirmed. A look of enlightenment crossed his face. “Aha! Ace. Perfect nickname. Don’t you think that’s a perfect nickname?”

“Tony...” said Pepper Potts patiently as your eyebrows furrowed. What? “Not the time. She’s recording.” 

“Fine,” said Mr. Stark petulantly. “We can edit that. What else do your young, curious minds seek to discover?” 

“Do you own a flying car?” blurted out Peter. The question garnered a light chuckle from around the table.

“Is that the newest rumor about me? No. No flying cars are hiding in my garage.” 

You spent the rest of the time asking Mrs. Potts about her experience as CEO, the changes she made to the company, advice she’d give to girls your age, and a few questions about the actual business, before concluding with a thanks and stopping the recording. 

You looked over to Peter, who seemed like an excitable puppy as he immediately started talking about school to fill the silence. Your wrap was long gone and you invested your time in listening to the three around you. 

“Y’know, Ace, Peter mentioned you were quiet but I didn’t think you were this quiet. We don’t bite, y’know,” joked Mr. Stark suddenly. 

Your face heated up as Mrs. Potts admonished him. “Sorry, sir, I just don’t really know what to say. I’m not really used to talking much. My dad likes quiet and it’s just the two of us at home so…” You gave an awkward shrug. “I kinda grew into it.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, honey,” said Mrs. Potts. “It’s perfectly fine. Tony was out of line.” 

You didn’t know how to respond to that. “It’s alright, he had a point,” you laughed nervously.  _ Deflect, deflect, deflect _ , your mind kept screaming. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’m just nervous about this project. Big part of our grade, y’know? History isn’t really my strong suit, either.” 

Mrs. Potts seemed to understand and quickly provided a means to an escape. “Why don’t you two start working in the living room? Tony and I can clean up here.” 

You accepted the offer with a relieved smile and followed Peter, bag in hand. 

Peter made a wide gesture to the area, allowing you to seat yourself on a couch before settling on the floor in front of the coffee table. 

“I’m really sorry about Thursday,” he began. “I know you didn’t originally think you’d be able to come today, so that was really mean of me, and I get it if you’re angry, I probably would be too.” 

The anger had simmered down since you had first read the text, and you held no grudges. “It’s fine. I’m over it. I had some stuff I wanted to show you for the project, but I’m here now so I guess I’ll just…” You flipped through your history notebook until you reached the pages you had colored a few days before. You took a deep breath and handed it over. 

You watched his facial expressions as he inspected your work, taking note of every brow furrow and widening of eyes. 

“I…” Regret pooled onto his face and you inhaled sharply. 

“I know, I probably should’ve tried to improve it instead of remake it, but I was just pressed on time and-.” 

“Woah, what? No, no, y/n, this is- amazing. No, it’s  _ incredible _ . I just…” Peter took some time to consider his words as he stared down at the page of diagrams. You waited anxiously. “You really put effort into this and I just left because I knew you’d be here, today. Which was such a jerk move.” 

“It’s fine. Mr. Stark needed you to help and that’s more important; he’s more important than I am.”  _ Oh goodness, why did I say that? It’s not wrong but I just blurted it out like that ugh.  _

Your words seemed to have the opposite effect as intended. Peter looked even guiltier. “Hey, don’t say that. That’s not what I meant. It wasn’t even- Is that what you thought?” 

That one’s on you. Definitely on you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to come off like that. He’s your boss though, and that’s pretty important.” 

“Yeah but he’s also pretty persistent that I should focus on school more so… I should’ve- shouldn’t’ve-.” He took a deep breath. “Why don’t we focus on the project, yeah? These are really great diagrams, I’m sure Mr. Stark would let us use his lab to build this. He’d probably help us.” 

You weren’t sure you wanted to show the billionaire your drawings. He’d probably point out everything that could be improved if you did. “What if we just focus on the writing for now? I need to type up a transcript of the interview, maybe you could start on some of the background info?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed. “Lemme just grab my stuff, I’ll be right back.” 

As he exited the room, you plugged in your headphones. 

He was taking a lot longer than expected. After seven and a half minutes you were feeling moderately uncomfortable. Another five minutes later, and Pepper Potts was entering with a note paper in her hand. 

“Hi, y/n,” she greeted. “I thought I’d give this to you now, since Tony’s busy trying to convince Peter to accept a new laptop and they’ll probably be at it for a little longer. I’m really sorry about Tony, by the way, talking is just his way of getting to know people.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potts. It’s fine, though, I’m not really known as the most sociable person.” You tucked the note into your bag as you spoke. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, and he was really nice during the tour, too. This whole thing just feels a little unreal, I guess.” 

Mrs. Potts had a reminiscent smile as she took a seat in a chair across from you. “It’s like a dream. You’re scared that if you say the wrong thing at the wrong time, it’s all over.” 

Well… yeah, now that you thought about it. If someone told you five years ago that you’d be having a discussion with Pepper Potts of Stark Industries in Avengers’ Tower, you weren’t sure you would have believed them. Sprinkle in having met Captain America and his super soldier boyfriend at a coffee shop, and the Black Widow and Hawkeye visiting you at work, and you had something so certifiably crazy that you would have dismissed the idea entirely. 

“It’s just a lot to take in,” you confided. “Everyone has been so nice about it, don’t get me wrong, and I couldn’t be happier to be here but, like you said, say something wrong and it’s all gone. And I really don’t want to let Peter down.”

* * *

Sometimes Peter couldn’t control his enhanced senses. They tuned in to everything without him wanting to, especially if he was distracted or agitated. He was on his way back to the room, two  _ borrowed _ (not gifted) Stark laptops in hand when he caught the sound of conversation. 

“It’s just a lot to take in,” y/n was saying, “Everyone has been so nice about it, don’t get me wrong, and I couldn’t be happier to be here but, like you said, say something wrong and it’s all gone. And I really don’t want to let Peter down.” 

Peter stopped just out of sight as she continued.  _ What? _ “Word has it that Peter is supposed to be class valedictorian, and he’s got this internship, and he invited me over, and he’s friends with everyone, you know? And here I am, barely even knowing what to say in the company of one superhero, much less five of them. Or even an amazing company CEO like yourself. I must look like such a mess to you.” 

Peter leaned back against the wall, the gears in his brain turning. Her racing heartbeat and constant fidgeting had been confusing him all day. She never seemed so nervous at school, but with what she had just said it suddenly made all the sense in the world. 

FRIDAY interrupted the first part of whatever Pepper was saying to console y/n. “Must I remind you that it’s rude to eavesdrop, Peter?” Peter shushed the AI and continued what he was doing.

“-and suddenly Tony was telling me that he was planning to remodel the tower as if he hadn’t nearly died. That’s Tony for you, though... It was a lot, at first, but they’re all human - well, Thor isn’t.” The pair shared a laugh, a real one, from what Peter could tell. “I mean it, though, just be yourself and it’ll work out fine.” 

There was a pause and Peter assumed that something he couldn’t see had happened. 

“I’ll tell you what, Natasha and I are having a girls’ day next week. If you’re available, I’d love for you to join us. We’ll go out and get our nails done, look all pretty, do some shopping. Open invitation. You can think over it.” 

“Okay,” said y/n softly. 

“Here, let me put my number on the back of the recipe,” Pepper added. “Now I should probably go save Peter from whatever Tony is keeping him for.”

Peter’s eyes widened. He walked down the hall quietly, before turning around about a second too late.

Pepper’s raised eyebrow proved that he didn’t fool her. “I was just about to come looking for you, Peter,” she said. 

“W- What a coincidence?” he offered, swinging his arms wide. He almost dropped one of the laptops. “Uh, I was just going to start on the project with y/n. Mr. Stark said I could- we could borrow them - these so...”

Pepper gave him a stern look of disappointment and moved out of his way. He slid into the room with a red face, well aware that he had been caught.

He set the laptops on the table with his notebook. “I think I’ll start on Howard Stark’s biography,” he mentioned. “Mr. Stark said it’ll probably be easier to type on that than on your phone, by the way.” 

Y/n’s eyes widened but she cautiously accepted the offer and began working on her part of the project. 

Peter copied her actions but could barely keep his focus. His mind turned back to that first night they had texted and his resolution not to let her get down on herself as he fiddled with a pencil.

If his mind wasn’t set before he had taken a glance at her, it certainly would be then. Peter was filled with determination as she worried her lip between her teeth, eyebrows drawn slightly closer together than usual. It’d be a challenge, but Peter was sure he’d get her out of her shell eventually, and he’d make sure she didn’t get down on herself again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact about me: I'm actually allergic to pork and seafood. XD 
> 
> Also: Short lil bit from Peter <3 We love him. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, please let me know what you think! I know this chapter was probably less dramatic than some of you were expecting - it was certainly less dramatic than I was expecting - but I couldn't see Reader actively freaking out after years of hiding how she feels.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam uses your nickname.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me posting content before 12:00 A.M the day I normally post because I want your guys to have the content tomorrow morning and because I actually have enough done that I can sleep at a reasonable time???? Shocking, I know. 
> 
> I wonder if anyone noticed that Sam wasn't around.   
> y/h/t = your hair texture.

Steve was still not sure what to think about it. After Natasha had told him the situation, he didn’t know what type of person to expect, but it certainly wasn’t  _ y/n from the coffee shop _ . The idea that she was completely naive to her stolen work somehow made a lot more sense to him, but he couldn’t give a reason why if anyone had asked. 

Bucky, meanwhile, was trying to put together  _ y/n from the coffee shop _ with the y/n Peter had brought around the day before. Y/n, who carried around pepper spray and maybe had a crush on Peter and wanted to know if Steve had tried Norwegian coffee. Y/n who jumped if someone spoke too loudly and had definitely been shaking yesterday. Y/n who probably didn’t know how to defend herself if it came down to a fight. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth and he took a stab at his breakfast. 

“So, what’s the read on the girl Peter’s bringing over?” asked Sam, who was scrambling eggs in the team kitchen. “What’s her name?”

“Y/f/n,” said Clint, paging through a newspaper.

Sam paused. That definitely could have been coincidence. He knew of a y/f/n in New York, daughter of a marine vet he had once worked with, but there were plenty of other y/f/n in New York that would be Peter’s age... right? “So, what’s the read on y/n?” 

“Sweet kid, a little jumpy,” shrugged Clint. “Quiet. Stuck to herself for the most part.” 

“If anyone hurts her, I will personally end them,” threatened Natasha calmly. “By the way, Pepper says y/n’s scared of us so don’t go too hard on her.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Scared of us?” What did she think they’d do?

“She’s a people pleaser; doesn’t want to step out of line and have us hate her.”

Bucky frowned. That made her sound like a kiss-up, but he doubted that was the case. “She’s not a fan of confrontation,” he restated smoothly, thinking back to the guy he’d punched. “But she goes out her way to be nice - Steve and I met her at a coffee shop a while ago.” He added the last part after Sam’s questioning look.

Sam nodded along to the descriptions, trying to place the kid’s personality before they met.  _ Quiet, unconfrontational, friendly, and someone Natasha might actually kill for within a day of meeting her _ . Sounded like a good person. 

When Peter brought her up to the main lounge hours later, Sam could admit that he was only  _ mostly _ prepared for y/n’s entrance. She looked a lot more like her mother than she had at the last time Sam saw her, but it was undeniably her. Same y/e/c eyes, same y/h/t y/h/c locks tied back, same y/n that he had known there was the smallest chance of meeting. 

But also not the same at all. Gone was the bubbly little girl he once knew, and in her place was a quiet young lady who looked like she had no idea what to do with herself. 

“Hi Mr. Wilson! You weren’t around yesterday, this is y/n,” introduced Peter. “We’re working on a history project but I thought we could use a break.”

Her eyes flicked to him and darted away. “We... know each other,” she mumbled. “It’s been a while, though.”

Sam nodded, and in typical Sam fashion, made a joke. “You were about two feet shorter last time I saw you.”

* * *

  
  


Last time you had seen or heard from Sam Wilson was when he had called exactly one year, two months and one day after your mom’s funeral. Once upon a time you had called him Uncle Sam - a terribly patriotic joke that he loved nonetheless - but the title felt incredibly wrong now.

“I thought you were still living in D.C,” you said.  _ This is so awkward… _

“I moved,” he smiled. “It’s what happens when Captain America needs your help.” 

You gave him a small smile of your own. “Sounds like an interesting story, if you’re willing to share.” 

“I’d never turn down storytime for you, y/n/n.” Despite having heard the exact same sentence dozens of times before, nothing could have prepared you for that. Hearing the name from him left you feeling like you had been punched in the stomach.

“Y/n/n?” asked Peter, settling in a space on the floor. “That’s a nice nickname.”

You swallowed thickly to quell the nausea that rose at Peter’s repetition. “I’d really rather not go by that, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I’m sorry,” acquiesced Sam. 

“Why not, y/n?” inquired Peter. “Y/n/n is a good nickname, you should use it at school.” 

_ No _ . You grit your teeth together at the thought. If your school started calling you by the name your mother used to call you by, the name your father used to apologize to you after too many drunken nights, you would panic. You were already panicking. Level 12 of 10 type of panicking that you knew was irrational and you couldn’t show it or people would call you crazy.

“That’s her choice, Peter, I probably should’ve asked before using it. It’s been a while,” said Sam, saving you from pleading with your classmate. His dark brown eyes were locked on you though, and you had a feeling that he just  _ knew _ you were panicking. He didn’t mention it. “Why don’t you take a seat, y/n? And I’ll tell you kids the story of Captain America the Fugitive. Part one, I suppose.” 

You took a seat as far as possible from both Peter and Sam, which made the former pout heavily. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, though, and Sam didn’t seem bothered, so you figured it was fine. Sometime during the story, the Black Widow joined, and then Steve himself. 

You sat up a bit as you realized Steve intended to take the seat next to you, not keen on being so close to him (or anyone, for that matter), but the problem was suddenly nonexistent when the Widow stood up from her seat and sat in the very chair Steve had been eyeing, staring him down all the while. Somehow, the assassin’s close proximity didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. It wasn’t calming, per se, because logically you knew she could probably do more harm than any man in the room. On the other hand, it seemed like she enjoyed your company.

"So, we're sitting in the back of this car, I'm thinking that we're done for, Natasha's got a bullet in her shoulder, Steve's…" 

"Freaking out about his long lost lover being alive," finished the woman beside you, comfortably leaning away from you and tucking her feet onto the chair.

Steve rolled his eyes, settling into the now-abandoned spot. "I was not 'freaking out.'" 

"It's fine if you were, Captain Rogers, sir. We aren't judging," said Peter lightly. "I'd probably be going crazy if one of my friends suddenly came back from the dead too."

You nodded in agreement. “I’d freak out if  _ anyone  _ came back from the dead,” you concurred. “Especially if they were trying to kill me.” 

Ms. Romanoff gave you a warm smile and you relaxed into your seat a bit. “So, Steve is having a crisis, I’m mentally cursing Barnes to hell and back, and Sam is worrying his pretty little head over me.” 

“Aw, you think I’m pretty? I’m honored, truly.” 

“Don’t interrupt,” she scolded before continuing. “As I was saying, we’re in the car when one of the guards tests the taser they’re holding, and then, right after, tases the other guard. Lo and behold, guard number one was actually S.H.I.E.L.D. agent Maria Hill. I’d say you’d meet her on Saturday, but she’s busy. You’re coming on Saturday, right?” You blinked in surprise. “Pepper said she invited you.” 

“Oh, yeah, girls’ day out,” you remembered. “I have to check with the- with my father, but I should be available.” You narrowly avoided calling him  _ the lieutenant _ , but you hoped they would ignore the stutter.

“Good. So Maria helps us escape, and takes us to…” She continued the story, with Sam and Steve adding in their perspectives as needed. 

By the time the story was over, a full hour had passed since you and Peter had come from the lab, which meant that you both had to get back to working. 

“It was good to see you again, Sam,” you mentioned on your way out. 

“Good to see you too, y/n,” he said. “Say hi to your dad for me.”

Your step faltered. “Yeah, sure,” you lied, following Peter back to the lab. 

* * *

  
  


“Again?” asked Steve when the kids had left. “I thought you said you never met her.”

“I said nothing of that sort,” Sam retorted. “I just asked what the read on her was.” His gaze was set on nothing in particular as he reminisced. Logan y/l/n had cut him off entirely years ago, and he had no way to get in touch with y/n after that. Five years was a lot of time for people to change, especially kids, and he knew that it’d probably never be the same between them. 

“Did something happen between you two?” inquired Natasha, taking in the look on his face. 

Sam shook his head, his face stoic. “Nah, y/n was a kid last time I saw her. I knew her mom, Andrea. I met her on a mission. I managed to catch up with her again when I retired. We were coworkers for a few years, back in D.C,” he revealed. “She moved up here after she got married, started a family. We were close, though, so I came and saw little y/n every few months…” A sad smile crossed his face before he shook his head. “I don’t think Logan - y/n’s dad - liked me, though. After Andrea passed he… made it a point to ignore my calls.”

The mood was somber after the statement. Natasha filed the information away with the other facts she knew about y/n. She liked her space, avoided confrontation, lived with her dad (who apparently disliked Sam), and feared loud noises. 

“Why ask her to say hi to a guy who doesn’t like you?” she asked. 

Sam sighed and rose. “He was a good man. I’ve got some work to do, though, so I’ll see you guys around later.” 

Steve inspected Natasha after their friend departed. “You noticed it too.” 

Natasha’s green eyes met Steve’s baby blues, neither confirming or denying. “I’m going on a walk.” 

“I’ll come with,” said Steve. 

Just like the time before, the moment they were off of Stark property, Natasha began the real conversation. “So which time did you notice?” 

“Both of them. The stutter and when she nearly tripped over her own feet.” 

“Ah. You missed one. She froze up when you started walking towards her.” 

“When? When you took my spot?”

“Yeah.” 

They walked in silence, each to their own thoughts. “You don’t like it.” 

“I don’t like a lot of things, Steve. Gotta be more specific.” 

“The situation.” 

“I don’t  _ have  _ to like it.”

“But you like y/n.” 

Natasha spun on her heel. “Are you going somewhere with this?” she demanded. 

“We both know that getting close to a mission is a bad idea. You can’t start caring about her too much, especially if she might be selling information.” Although, that was an extremely hypocritical statement of Steve to make, since he knew how easy it was to get close to y/n. He had visited a coffee shop just to see if she’d be there, and Bucky had her phone number after only meeting the girl twice. 

Natasha narrowed her eyes and Steve knew he misspoke. “You listen up real close. She is not a threat. We both know no one can behave like that and be acting. Someone hurt her. My _mission,_ since you chose to go there, is to protect her. You know better than anyone that I don’t let people or emotions get in the way of my mission.” 

Steve, who had decided his best option would be to just stay silent, nodded. He didn’t know y/n’s situation, but one thing was for certain: the Avengers were on her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think a couple people mentioned how enjoyable it was that Reader played a different role to so many people… this has been my plan since day one. >:) Her mom knew Sam!! She's known Sam!! And that was something I was so excited to reveal. :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it's Memorial Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Thank you to user vanillacobbler for giving me the excellent coffee pun!! I can’t believe I missed that the first time. I was going to add this later but I figured I might as well go for it now so people can experience the genius for themselves.  
> The last chapter was only three pages so here, a second. This chapter is so _fluffy_ I love it so much please also love it. It adds virtually nothing to the plot. Peter wasn’t originally in this chapter but I love him too much and I know you all love him too so the cuteness factor is like 100 :)

You stood at the tower entrance with two cups of coffee in a paper tray in one hand. It was early. Eight thirty in the morning instead of ten. Your dad was expecting you to pick up your new dress and meet him at the station by nine forty-five, and you’d be staying there for the rest of the day. Little did he know that you had already picked up your dress while on your way home from the tower yesterday and had a different errand to run. 

You thought over your plan one last time. They hadn’t been expecting you today, you knew, but that was half the fun (if this even worked out, that was). You pulled your phone from the purse on your shoulder and took a picture of the cups. 

_I got you and Steve coffee._ You typed out. _Happy Memorial day_

**_James:_ ** _Are you outside the tower?_

**_You:_ ** _Maybe_

**_James:_ ** _The door is unlocked if you want to come up_

You walked up to try it, discovered that it was true, and took the invitation. You made it to the elevator before the uncertainty hit. “Uh, hey, FRIDAY, do you know where Steve and James are?” 

“The main kitchen, Miss y/l/n. Would you like me to take you up?” 

“Yes, please,” you answered. 

After a short elevator ride, you reached the correct level and stepped out onto the somewhat familiar wood flooring. Your flats were quiet as you made your way over, and you were slightly more grateful you had chosen not to wear heels. 

James was the first to notice you. “Good morning, y/n,” he welcomed. “Any reason you brought coffee?”

You bit your lip, the idea suddenly sounding more foolish than it had in your head when you first thought of it. “Well… A lot of people kinda celebrated today and always mentioned you both. Y’know ultimate patriots. So I thought it’d be nice to celebrate how you’re both alive and well for a change, so I kinda bought you both iced americanos.” Your voice tapered down to a mumble as you finished.

Clint, who was in the middle of his glass of orange juice, nearly spewed some back out before bursting out laughing. “Please,” he wheezed. “Please tell me my hearing aids picked that up right.” 

“You have hearing aids?” you voiced, some of the worry replaced by curiosity. 

“I do,” he answered, twisting his head pointing to a black object around his ear. You saw it before, but assumed it was a bluetooth headset. “But did you really?” 

You nodded and he started laughing again. 

“Am I missing something?” asked Sam. 

Even Ms. Romanoff was wearing a small smile. “She bought the super soldiers iced coffee because people used to spend memorial day celebrating them. _Iced americanos._ ” 

Sam, James, and Steve had a moment of enlightenment as your face heated. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you defended, “it’s hot outside is all. I didn’t realize it until after I ordered, the americano happened to be today's special.”

“We appreciate the sentiment,” smiled James, taking his cup and passing the other to Steve.

“Have you had breakfast yet?” asked Sam. “I’m making waffles if you want to stay. Peter will probably be up any minute too.” 

You thought back to the plastic cup you had tossed away during your walk. “Uh, yeah?” you answered. “I had a cup of coffee for myself, if that counts. And a granola bar.” 

Sam tsked and you received looks of disapproval from around the room. “You’re as bad as Tony. That is not breakfast, sit down. You’re not leaving until you finish at least one plate of food.” 

“Is Peter trying to skip breakfast again?” called a loud voice, causing you to turn around. “I told him he wasn’t allowed to go patro- Oh. Hello, y/n,” greeted Mr. Stark, entering the kitchen with Pepper’s hand in his. “Peter said you had a party to attend today.”

“She was stopping by to give Steve and Bucky iced americanos to commemorate Memorial Day,” quipped Clint. 

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," grinned Mr. Stark. He took a seat at the table as Pepper began to busy herself in the kitchen. "Good humor. You’re staying for breakfast; we can make jokes about Barnes and Noble over there." 

“Who’s staying for breakfast?” asked Peter, walking in wearing his pajamas. Which really wasn’t unusual, a few of the others were wearing theirs as well, but _damn._

Your mouth formed a small 'o' at seeing Peter in a _very_ fitted white short sleeve and flannel pants. Your eyes roamed a bit before snapping to his face. _It’s rude to stare_ , you reminded yourself. "Hi?" 

His mouth had also dropped open as he inspected you and then himself. "I'll be back," he said, spinning around on his heel once before spinning back. "That's - the dress- that- you're- on you- um, really pretty by the way. You're… yeah. I'll be back." 

A few people exchanged looks and James waggled his eyebrows at you. You definitely did not blush. "Thanks, I think?" you called after Peter’s retreating figure. 

“Peter’s right, you look lovely, y/n,” complemented Mrs. Potts. “Please, have a seat by the way. Are you planning to leave your hair down? I think I have a headband that would look good with that dress if you are.” 

You played with your mid-length, y/h/c hair as you took the seat next to Ms. Romanoff. “I don’t think I’d have time to get it done,” you said honestly. “My father wants me at the station at nine forty-five and it’s already, what, almost eight forty?” you guessed. “I don’t have a watch.” 

“Maybe it’s time for you to get one,” joked Sam. You narrowly avoided an eye roll at the lame humor.

“I think I actually have a scarf that would look cute,” said Ms. Romanoff. “Let me grab it really quick, I can braid it into your hair.” 

Before you could say anything, she was gone and you were blinking in surprise. “Okay…” 

There was a lull in the conversation.

“So, your dad’s putting on a memorial day party,” said Steve. 

You couldn’t help yourself when you burst out laughing, hands quickly coming up to stifle the sound as everyone turned to you in surprise. _He actually sounds like that._ “I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly, but couldn’t stop giggling. “That shouldn’t- That should not be so funny, it’s just-.” _Get it together, y/n._

“She’s laughing because Captain Rogers sounded like all those PSA’s he recorded for the school,” explained Peter who reentered in jeans and a loose t-shirt with a wide grin on his face. “ _So, you got a detention…_ ” 

His terrible voice impression only made you start laughing harder. 

“Y/n would never get detention,” said Sam. Not wrong.

“Yeah, look at her, she’s an angel,” agreed Steve. “She brought us coffee.”

_Tell that to the new and improved student handbook_ , you thought. “I am definitely not an angel.” You were about to cry from how hard you were laughing. Why were you still laughing?! It wasn’t even that funny! 

“Whatever you say, Angel,” he smirked. “But they actually show those?” 

You and Peter nodded and you took a few deep breaths to try to stop laughing. “Sorry,” you apologized again, blinking away the watery feeling in your eyes. “Sorry, yeah, they do. I’m pretty sure it’s a state mandate or something like that.” You let Peter list off all the different ones, chiming in with a few random lectures that had come to mind.

Somewhere around the 12th (which you had added, the one about patience), Natasha returned with a scarf matching the color of your dress. “Hi, Peter,” she said, passing him as she made her way to you. 

“Hi, Ms. Romanoff,” he returned, tilting his head like a confused puppy as she stood behind you. He seemed to have realized what was happening as you sat up a little straighter. You hadn’t had someone do your hair in a while, and feeling another person so close to you was offsetting. 

A few moments later, the group began what must have been their usual banter. Tony was giving Steve a hard time about the videos, James was pointing out that Steve was awful at yours and Peter’s age and a total hypocrite, Steve was trying to defend himself, Peter was showing something to Clint at the breakfast bar, Mrs. Potts and Sam were having some sort of discussion about groceries while cooking, and you were sitting as Ms. Romanoff braided your hair. 

Eventually, Sam plated some waffles for you after asking for your preferences and you took them gratefully. Tony protested that wasn’t normally the way things were done, but both women in the area told him to shut it because you were on a time crunch, and no one brought it up again.

Ms. Romanoff took a seat beside you after she had finished, showing you a picture of the hairdo she had taken on her phone. 

“That is amazing, Ms. Romanoff, thank you. I’ll be sure to give it back tomorrow.” 

“You can call me Natasha,” she informed you. “And keep it. I won’t take objections, it looks great on you.” 

“Um, okay. Thank you Ms.” She gave you a look. “Right, Natasha, sorry. Thank you.”

She left you alone after your reluctant acceptance of the gift. You were glad that no one forced conversation as you finished your plate of waffles, but it also meant you had no reason to stay after that. “I should get going,” you mentioned quietly, not sure who might hear you. 

The answer was Natasha, Clint, Peter, and the two super soldiers, who all turned to face you. 

“So soon?” asked James. He sounded disappointed.

You nodded. “My dad won't be happy if I’m late and it’s probably around nine, so… A half hour subway ride, a few minutes walking, you know.” 

“I could drive you,” offered Tony. “Or get Happy to drive you, if you want.” 

You shook your head. “Thank you, sir, but I’m not a big fan of cars. I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure? I mean it’s just this once, if it’s about the carbon footprint. I’m sure it’s no big deal, and it’d save you time.” 

“No, I just _really_ don’t like cars,” you informed him. You had taken a car exactly once after the crash, from the hospital to your apartment, and only after you had been _heavily_ sedated. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been taking the subway for years so it’s no worry.” 

“Well, if you insist,” he sighed. “Pete, why don’t you walk her out?” 

Peter nearly jumped out of his chair. He pointed at himself as he spoke, “Why don’t I- Why- yeah. Okay.”

You said your goodbyes to the rest of the team and you and Peter walked over to the elevator. 

“Are you okay?” you asked him as the doors closed. “Your face is turning really red…” 

“Is it? Um… well…”

From the speaker above, FRIDAY’s voice played. “Flushed skin can be a sign of health conditions, like sunburn, or signal emotions like anger, embarrassment, or attraction.”

“FRIDAY!” objected Peter. “That’s not- well, maybe- I meant what I said earlier. You look nice.” He gave you a sheepish smile and rubbed his neck. “Sorry you had to see me in my pajamas.” 

“Thanks, but it’s not really a big deal,” you told him, not making eye contact. You certainly hadn’t _minded_ seeing him in his pajamas. 

There were a couple of seconds of awkward silence.

“I-” you both started. “You-”

You let out a nervous laugh and gestured for Peter to speak. 

“If it’s not a problem, do you wanna come over for breakfast again? Or like, a movie night? I know it got pretty crowded and you don’t normally hang out with a lot of people but I think that everyone really likes you and it’d be nice to have someone our age around. You know, if you need a break from studying or something.” 

You didn’t understand the way your heart was behaving. It’s not like he was asking you on a date. The doors opened with a soft ping. “Yeah, I think I’d like that. I’ll see you tomorrow, though, right? Ten A.M.?” 

“I’ll be here,” he said, walking out of the elevator with you. “Maybe we can start building the model tomorrow?” 

You nodded. So far you had only done the written portion of the project, but you really should start working on the demonstration. “Sounds like a plan.” 

“Great. I hope you enjoy the party,” he wished, opening the exit for you. 

Chivalry wasn’t dead, then. “Thanks. Happy memorial day, Peter.” 

“You too.” 

As you made your way to the subway station, you couldn’t help but smile. You didn’t anticipate the party being at all fun, but at least you had managed to enjoy your morning. 

You fished out your mom’s tags from under your dress collar, gripping them tightly as you walked. Your dad would probably kill you if he knew about what you had done, but you hoped your mom was smiling down at you, enjoying the good times while they lasted. With a final squeeze and a quick prayer to whoever was listening, you tucked the metal back under your dress. You had a party to get to.

* * *

  
  


Peter tugged his hands through his hair harshly as the door shut. “What were you thinking?” he practically shouted. “What was I _thinking_?” he groaned right after. She doesn’t like people or big groups, Peter had never even seen her in the cafeteria. And what about what she had said to Mrs. Potts the first day? She probably didn’t even want to be at the tower once the project was over. “I am so stupid.”

“I have conclusive evidence against that,” chimed FRIDAY as he entered the elevator.

“I wasn’t asking for your input,” Peter grumbled. “Why’d you even do that?”

“Boss says I shouldn’t let you get down on yourself.”

He glared at the elevator camera.“That is not what I meant and you know that.”

“I was just trying to be helpful.” 

Peter huffed and crossed his arms, muttering loudly about the A.I. needing to be reprogrammed as the elevator ascended. 

The vibe in the kitchen had changed ever so slightly when he entered and Peter was immediately hesitant. 

Tony gave him a giddy smile. “How’d it go?” 

Peter narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “Fine, I guess?” 

“Really? No interesting conversation topics or anything?” 

“Stop harassing him, Stark,” chimed Bucky. “We all know you could just look at the security feeds later.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” scoffed Tony.

Peter was puzzled. Did he miss something? Why was Mr. Stark so desperate to know what happened? Actually, why’d he even have Peter walk y/n out? “I just walked her out, told her that I hope she enjoys her party. That was all.”

“Gahhhh, kid,” groaned Tony. “You’re killing me here, really.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not everyone spends their teenage years asking out every other person they meet, Tony.” 

Peter’s eyes widened. “Oh! You thought- No, no, we’re just classmates, really,” he was quick to say. 

Tony’s expression promised trouble. “Is that so? FRIDAY, could you play the audio from when Peter walked into the kitchen the first time this morning?”

“No, no, no, nooo, nooooooo,” he said, trying to cover the audio clip as he hid his face in his hands. _"That's - the dress- that- you're- on you- um, really pretty by the way. You're… yeah. I'll be back."_

“She _was_ very pretty. And the way Nat did her hair was just gorgeous,” defended Pepper. Or so Peter thought. “Better hope the other officers don’t have kids your age.” 

“It’s not like that!” he exclaimed. 

Clint gave dubious snort. “If you say so, Spidey. Her dad’s probably not going to let just anyone flirt with her, anyways. I know I wouldn’t if she was my kid.” 

“That’s a shame,” expressed Natasha, careful not to mention Lila. Peter didn’t know much about Clint’s family except that he had one and they lived on a farm. “You can’t just lock her in a tower.” 

“Until she’s twenty five,” said Clint decisively. “It’s a perfect plan.”

Peter knew they were joking, but something about it made his spider-senses twinge, like the way they had when he was on the phone with her. He didn’t get it.

“I’m gonna go see if May is done with her overtime shift,” said Peter. “She wanted to spend some time together today since I’ve been here all weekend. I’m spending the night there, too.” 

Tony ooh’d. “Does May know about y/n?” he asked as Peter left. 

“Just classmates,” Peter tossed over his shoulder. They were just classmates. 

She was definitely a really pretty classmate, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the,,, ah, _vibe_ , right now, is me counting the chapters I plan on posting to make sure that I can take a break if I want to and still post weekly until the end of my semester. Because I love you all and so I'm trying my best to keep things constant.
> 
> The answer is yes, I have enough for all 16-17 weeks, if I needed to stop. Not that I plan to stop writing, but just that I have a heavy workload and I'm glad I made that cushion nice and Thick since I know I'm going to need it. I am so stressed for only being two weeks into the semester... SO stressed guys. School sucks. Being online for school sucks. This is my biggest form of escapism. I spend HOURS of my day writing, and even more on weekends. And when I'm not writing, I'm thinking about writing. Which is low key bad bc I'm supposed to be thinking about calculus or something like that most of the time T.T But I love it, and I'm always glad to hear that you all love it <3 
> 
> Thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! Seeing emails from AO3 never fails to make me smile.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you work in Tony's lab.  
> Chapter Warning: Mentions of a panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturdayyy!!!  
> Not gonna lie, school's a b*tch and so are college apps. Just wanted to put that out there because I spent my day on both of those things and I am so tired. Good news: I'm most of the way through with my college applications! Only a couple more essays before my work is done! Also, I have my recommendation letters from one of my favorite teachers and I spent like 30 min just sitting on my bed with a grin. It was great. 
> 
> Fun Fact: if you’ve gotten this far, you’ve scrolled about 152 pages of size 12 Georgia font! I forgot to mention that last chapter. Congratulations and Thanks! ALSO!!! : I just checked the stats for this fic and I am actually… _astonished._ The disbelief is real. 227 subscriptions??!! 159 bookmarks?!!! So many! Thank you all for the support, I really do hope you continue to enjoy the story!!

Ten A.M the next morning found you in Mr. Stark’s lab. You stood behind Peter as Mr. Stark flipped through your first draft of the model. You tried to keep your hands occupied as the nervousness ate at you.

The engineer's hand was splayed on the final page. “This is good.” His fingertips tapped against the page. “This is really good.” His eyes looked between you and Peter before landing on you. “You can do better.” 

You shrunk back, not sure what to say. Luckily for you, you didn’t need to. “I want you to think about the lab you’re standing in. Just think about it. I can 3D print things, yeah, but that’s  _ lame _ . I have the ability to actually make parts out of real metal. Think about what you’re making, too. Is this drawing historically accurate? Actually, yes, I could pull up Howard’s right now and prove that these are remarkably similar. On the other hand, Howard was limited by his technology.  _ You _ are not.

“So, I’ll tell you what. FRIDAY, scan these.” He flipped through the notebook, pushing a hologram away from his face as it popped up. “I will build this, after some adjustments, and you and Pete can work on developing something more... modern, hm? Have fun. Make Howard proud.” He handed you back your notebook. “Peter knows how things work around here, if you wanna use the A.R. system. Or you could just sketch it out the simple way, no judgement.” 

He walked to another project after that, leaving you slightly confused and in awe. 

“Is that allowed?” you asked Peter. “I mean, he’s kinda doing our project for us.”

Peter shrugged. “I stopped questioning things around here a while ago, you get used to it. It’s kinda like a parent helping their kid with a project, you know? Doesn’t your dad ever help you?” 

“No? Isn’t that cheating?” 

“Why would it be cheating?” 

“Because… you’re supposed to work on stuff by yourself. To show how much you know.”

Peter’s lips twisted into a frown. “So you never asked your parents for help?” he asked skeptically. “Or anyone?”

Self consciousness filled you. You hugged your notebook protectively. “Not since I was eleven or twelve.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows. “Wow, okay. Asking for help is not cheating, okay? Everyone needs help eventually, they should get the help they need.” 

“If you say so.” You rubbed a bruise on your arm that you had received for point-blank refusing to get into the Lieutenant's car at the end of the party. You couldn’t imagine asking him for help with anything. 

“Why don’t we get started on the edits? FRIDAY, pull up the hover systems we have right now,” he ordered. A projection appeared between you both, and you spent some time just revelling at the technology in the lab as Peter pointed out what he wanted to change. He suggested scrapping the current mechanics entirely and replacing them with mini repulsors. 

“Are we allowed to do that?” you questioned. “Are you sure Mr. Stark won’t be mad?” 

“Why would he be mad?” Based on his volume, he didn’t care if Mr. Stark heard or not. “He literally just told us to go crazy with this, we could do whatever we want. He probably wouldn’t even be mad if we made a real life version of this.” 

“We are not making a real flying car, Pete,” said Mr. Stark from across the lab. “You can barely even drive.”

“I can drive! Well, I’m figuring it out. May is teaching me on the weekends, we actually drove around the city really early this morning.” 

“There’s a lot that goes into making a car, Peter,” you reasoned. “They’re not as simple as you might think. A tiny model like this doesn’t need an engine, or a radiator, or an A/C unit, stuff like that. Not to mention safety features.” 

“See? Ace thought this through. Let's stick with toys, kids. You’re gonna need a different power source if you want to use repulsors, by the way. Just saying.” 

You played with a model of the repulsor in front of you, trying to understand it. “Does this emit heat? Actually, that’s a stupid question, it has to, that’s the whole point.”  _ How does he not burn his hand? Reaction occurs outside the suit. But how does he not burn everything else then?  _ “How much power does it take for you to fly?”

“In what terms?”

You pulled a face. Good question. “How much power does the suit have?” 

“A lot. It’s the same thing in the suits as it is powering this whole thing.” He waved an arm around the space. “It takes about one percent of the suit’s power to actually fly and about eleven percent to blast something if the force is concentrated.”

“May the force be with you,” Peter joked. Tony said something about Peter shutting up, and Peter retorted by bringing up some other situation. They started a small argument, but you were distracted.

_ But proportionally, would it work?  _ You had FRIDAY scale the repulsor down, remove whatever made them capable of being weaponized, basically doing exactly what Peter mentioned earlier. Apply it to the model of the car. Well, first you had to adjust the model of the car, but once it was compatible you applied it. Change the car material, lightweight aluminum because why not, it’ll last longer that way. Now for controls… It needed to be able to turn without loss of altitude, the repulsors needed to be adjustable, point in the opposite direction because they’d be pushing away. You needed a way to direct the repulsors, and FRIDAY supplied an answer without a direct order to. “That’s perfect, thanks. Could you run that through a simulation with a nine volt battery at- actually, add a three volt lithium coin battery here- yeah- Run it through a simulation at the height of one inch.” 

FRIDAY’s voice echoed through the lab, speaking over Tony. “I estimate a flight time of one minute and twelve seconds. Good job, Miss y/l/n. You’ve proven the boss wrong.” 

“You- what?” He stormed over to you and you backed up until you felt a table behind you.  _ Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. He must be so mad right now, oh no. I messed up.  _ He ended up stopping at the hologram. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Peter pulls stunts like this all the time. He’d probably fix everything in my lab if I left him alone here. Y’know-” He cut off when he finally looked up at your shaking form, pressed against the table. “Woah, hey, you okay there, Ace?”

“I’m fine, sir,” you breathed. “Just surprised.”  _ That you aren’t totally pissed off. _

He looked from you to the hologram to the space he had approached you from. “I’m proven wrong more often than you think,” he said. “I think that you kids have worked hard enough for one day, why don’t you guys get a snack or something and I’ll be up in a minute.” 

Peter took up the offer eagerly, congratulating you on the work before chattering on about something else. You weren’t sure what the topic was, but you nodded at his prompts as you tried to breathe normally. When you exited onto the main floor, you asked Peter to point you to the bathroom, which he did before offering to get an early lunch ready. You agreed quickly before barricading yourself in the bathroom. 

The toilet lid was already down and so you sat on top. If it were some other time, you might have laughed at the Avengers cover, but you just needed to breathe. Your elbows rested on your knees and you held your head in your hands.  _ I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. He wasn’t even close to me. In and out. You’ll be fine.  _ Tears pricked at your eyes and you closed them, counting your breathing. You did not want to walk out with panda eyes; your eyeliner was way too cheap to stay in place if you began to cry. 

You weren’t sure of how much time had passed when you got a hold of yourself. It felt like hours but you hoped it wasn’t long. Crisis averted, you patted your face with some damp toilet paper to freshen up before drying it off. You ignored the bit of makeup coming off as you tossed the toilet paper away. You gave your reflection a shaky smile and left to see what Peter had gathered for lunch. 

* * *

  
  
  


Tony needed space to think. He wasn’t blind, he knew what fear looked like.

So he sent the kids up for a break. “Hey, Fri, could you show me the events in the lab since Ace proved me wrong?” 

He watched a holographic version of himself stride over as y/n scrambled back. “Did she seem scared to you, Fri?” he wondered as a holographic Peter and y/n exited. 

“Very much, Boss. She seems rather frightened of people in general, particularly men.” 

Tony didn't question it. FRIDAY knew everything that happened in the tower, around the tower, and pretty much everywhere else. If she said y/n seemed more jumpy around men, he'd take her word for it. 

The knowledge put Tony in a tricky situation. Something had definitely happened to Ace or something was happening to Ace. He had no idea which it was, but he'd have to tread carefully. It took him less than a minute to figure out what he wanted to do next. “After Ace leaves, call the team to the meeting room. Informal, high importance. Leave the kid out of it, I’ll find something to busy him with.” 

“Sure thing, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment when Peter said that everyone deserves the help they need... 👀 true words my friends. 
> 
> Oh, that tidbit at the end because _you're all so determined to know when they find out_ and keep asking about it? *long blink* I really hope you guys enjoy the next chapter... Which will be out next week, like scheduled. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and leaving comments!! Emails from AO3 always brighten my day. <3 You're all amazing and I hope you're doing well!


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Avengers have a meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number of late assignments I have right now? 4 (which are each worth 2 or more hours... *internal screaming*) Hours of sleep I got last night? Maybe 6, I really don't know. Work done in the last two days? almost 0. Pain I'm in from these back cramps and my migrain? 7.5/10. Hotel? Trivago. (: totally thriving right now.  
> I really want this chapter to live up to everyone’s expectations. It's a short chapter. Like, I get the feeling it kind of will but I’m also flipping out over it so… Without further ado...

An informal meeting of high importance. Steve had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean, but he supposed he needed to attend to find out.

It quickly became clear that Tony had called  _ everyone  _ to the meeting room, especially when Bruce entered and stood awkwardly in the doorway for a few seconds before standing as far away from the others as he could get. Clint and Sam entered together. Tony followed behind them and shut the door.

“So, what’s up?” asked Sam. 

“What do you all think about y/n?” asked Tony. “Generally, the first thing to come to mind.” 

“Never met her,” answered Bruce immediately. The rest of the team traded looks.

“What are you thinking about, Stark?” asked Natasha. 

“Don’t answer a question with a question, it’s bad form,” he pointed out. “I just want to know. Does she seem… quiet to you? Or really nervous, maybe?” Tony had to know it wasn’t just him. 

“So she’s shy, what about it?” shrugged Bucky. “Not everyone is as loud as you and your kid, you know.” 

The fact that Tony didn’t make a witty comeback to the remark, or even deny Peter as his kid, was what prompted Steve to repeat Natasha’s question. 

“FRIDAY pointed out that y/n seemed nervous around people, especially men, after an incident in the lab, I just wanted to know if any of you noticed or if I just set her off.”

“What? What do you mean by ‘set her off?’ What happened?” inquired Sam quickly. “She seemed fine during lunch.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face and flopped into a chair. Her seemingly perfect composure during lunch was part of the problem. He was certain she had tried to stay as far away from him as possible without making it obvious. “I was surprised she one upped me and I think she took it the wrong way when I walked over to see how. When I look up she’s basically as far away from me as possible. So I sent her and Peter up here for lunch while I tried to puzzle it out.” 

Tony had his usual thinking face back on and was staring at the middle of the table. He opened his mouth once and closed it slowly as he tapped his fingers on the surface in front of him. Was there any appropriate way to say this?

“Would you stop beating around the bush, Stark?” demanded Natasha impatiently. “Just spit it out.”

“I think she was abused.”

Around the room, expressions shifted from confusion to shock to concern. Natasha and Clint were the only ones with no obvious reactions. Steve locked eyes with the former and she gave a small shrug. 

Tony, never one for silence, continued speaking. “Or maybe is, I don’t know. Point is that we should keep it in mind in the future. No big, sudden movements, try not to yell at her, give her space, y'know? Just so everyone is on the same page here.” 

Bruce, who hadn’t even met y/n, voiced some doubts. “That’s a pretty hefty claim, Tony, are you sure you’re not overreacting?”

Natasha’s face was a cool neutral as she answered, not bothering to look over to Bruce. “He’s not.” Bruce froze awkwardly. “What I want to know is if there will even be a future. I mean, she said she’d go out with me and Pepper on Saturday, but is she coming over after that?” 

Tony sighed. “I have no idea. Peter might invite her over again just to study or something, but their project is mostly finished. Just letting you all know in case. Or if she ever shows up with coffee for our lovely icicles,” he joked, trying to ease the tension. “I think it’s safe to call this meeting adjourned, unless anyone wants to add anything?” 

“Natasha threatened to end anyone who hurt y/n during breakfast a couple days ago,” piped up Clint. “Just in case anyone forgot about that.” 

“Got it,” said Tony. “Anything else you all want to share that FRIDAY neglected to mention? No? No one else implying murder? Good.” 

Bruce and Tony were the first two out the door and Sam left moments after, as though their exit had moved him out of a trance. 

Steve and Natasha were having a stare down which turned into a silent conversation. 

_ Did you know about this? _ Steve vividly recalled their discussion almost two weeks ago, where Natasha had fiercely defended Y/n and even detailed some of her habits.

_ I had my suspicions.  _

Of course she did. _Do_ __yo_ u plan on looking into them? _

_ Who do you take me for, Rogers?  _

Steve left the room after that, Bucky at his side. 

Bucky watched as his boyfriend changed into workout clothes before deciding to give him some time alone. He understood why Steve was upset. For starters, Steve had always been very defensive and protective of those who couldn’t (or wouldn’t) protect themselves. Another part of it was the feeling of uncertainty. Steve liked action, rushing into things with the first solution possible. Y/n’s situation was delicate; there was no right way to go about handling it. That statement didn’t even acknowledge the looks Steve and Natasha had exchanged. Bucky was sure that there was more to the situation, but he wouldn’t press. 

Bucky travelled down to the training room much later, when he felt Steve had enough time to himself. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Steve’s hard eyes remained on the punching bag for a few more hits before the bag was wrecked. 

“Stark was proud of that one. He really thought it was gonna last longer, you know?” 

“Not now, Buck, I’m not in the mood.”

Bucky scrutinized Steve as Steve continued inspecting the now-ruined bag. 

“You have any more energy you want to get out? Because, y’know, I’m here if you do.” 

Steve tore his eyes away to face Bucky. “You should warm up before offering to spar. And sparring shouldn’t be used as an outlet for anger.” 

“You’ve got energy, I’ve got energy, and we’re both in enough control that we won’t hurt each other. I’ll deal with the repercussions later.” 

Steve found a roll of wrap and chucked it at Bucky’s head. The brunet caught it easily and began wrapping his flesh hand. 

“Hey,” objected Bucky. “I know I’m not the one you’re mad at.” The subtle change in Steve’s expression showed Bucky he was listening. “I’m willing to work through this with you but you’ve gotta understand I’m just as upset as you are.” 

“Sorry,” muttered Steve. In a show of apology, he handed the tape over. 

“Thank you,” accepted Buck, who finished wrapping his hand as they made their way to the mats.

The session began wordlessly, with Steve on the offensive for the most part. 

And, like he usually does when they’re training by themselves, Steve started talking. “She was hurt,” he began, “the day you met her.”

Bucky’s only response was to block Steve’s hits and send a few of his own.

“When she  _ moved- _ ” punch “-to pick up her  _ things- _ ” punch “-or whenever she would laugh.” Bucky lept back from where he had stood as Steve swept a leg under his feet. “She's good at hiding it,” he continued. 

Buck acknowledged the statement with “A civilian probably wouldn’t’ve seen it.”

Steve started throwing harder punches and Bucky began hitting back faster. They knew each other well enough to stay on guard, but neither person was fighting for a win as their hands went flying. 

“She’s. A. Kid.” The words were each punctuated with a hit. He let Bucky land a few hits and stepped back. “Y/n’s a kid,” he said defeatedly. His hands hung beside him. “And I really don’t want Tony to be right.”

“I don’t either,” sighed Bucky. He ran a hand through his brown locks to push away the strands of hair sticking to his face. “But you saw it as well as I did, Steve.” 

Steve began to unravel the wrap on his hands. “I know.”

Bucky did the same, but slower. Steve had something else on his mind, Bucky just knew it. 

The silence wasn’t tense, nor did it build as they put away the wrap and made their way to their apartment. Bucky offered his flesh hand to Steve, who slipped his in wordlessly. 

It was the physical connection that gave Steve the confidence to ask as he squeezed his boyfriend’s hand. Still, he waited until they entered their apartment to say anything. “I know we haven’t discussed it much, especially as adults, but… would you want a kid?”

It was a serious question. A big question. A question Bucky couldn’t answer definitively, but would answer honestly. “I don’t know.” He faced Steve, their hands still locked, and explained why. “This whole… Avengers thing, I guess, it’s dangerous. I don’t want a kid worrying about whether their dads will come home, or doubt my care if I go on a mission and have to stay radio silent or something. Or, God forbid, have them kidnapped because of us. I know Barton’s got his situation figured out pretty well but…” He couldn’t help the small smirk that crossed his face. “I don’t think I could move to a farm. Not for long at least.”

Steve gave an understanding smile. “Six months in a Wakandan village too much?”

“That wasn’t even close to the same and you know it.” Bucky gave Steve a small peck on the lips before pulling back. “Come on, we both need showers.” 

“I was thinking of having a movie night after?” suggested Steve, wrapping his arms around Bucky for a moment to keep him from pulling away. “Just the two of us.”

“If you want to. Now come on, seriously, we stink.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Jerk.” 

“Punk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -homophobic comment- 
> 
> Me, an Asexual, thinking back to it sardonically: Oh no, looks like I'll have to make things ✨even more LGBTQ+ friendly✨  
>  ~~Also, you all know I’m only out here detailing the important reactions… *sends you a meaningful look*~~  
>  Foreshadowing??? Uh, no, very much I did not... Not me… wrong b*tch *hides face behind hand* (That's a tiktok reference y'all)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you spend a day with the girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I had a really angry/defensive reply to your comment on the last chapter, I’m so sorry. I love all of your comments and value them so much and the support was out of this world amazing. I had no reason to go off the way I did, and it took me like 2 days for my brain to process, I’m so sorry. Y’all didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of my stress. I’m always so grateful for all of you, every day, ESPECIALLY if you’re reading again after that.
> 
> Onwards, my dear readers:

Your childhood resolution of never getting into a car ever again was easy to follow through on. At first, your father hadn’t wanted you to take the subway alone or bike alone, but after a year or so he stopped worrying. The next few years after that had you scared of kidnappers, but that fear faded significantly once Scott had gotten you pepper spray.

Now, you were comfortable making your way around most of Manhattan by yourself (with the help of your cell phone). With the day’s agenda in mind, you travelled to the first location you had agreed to meet Natasha and Pepper that Saturday: Pepper’s favorite nail salon and spa. Pepper had insisted she was paying for everything, but you still had your wallet in case you wanted to buy something small for lunch. 

You were getting out your phone to text Pepper you had arrived- you still couldn’t believe you even had her number - when a large, black car with tinted windows pulled up. You took a step away from the curb, but were pleasantly surprised to be joined by your companions for the day. 

“Hi Mrs-” Both women sent you a look and you started again. “Hi, Pepper. Hi, Natasha.”

“Good morning, y/n,” smiled Pepper. She thanked the driver and assured them she’d be fine. “I hope you’re excited.” 

You gave her a small nod. “I’ve never really had something like this so… Yeah, I guess excited. A little nervous.” 

"There’s a first time for everything,” Natasha encouraged. “No need to be nervous, just be yourself. I promise I won’t get any of my toys out unless I have to.” 

You weren’t sure if you should be scared of the fact that Natasha was referring to her weapons as toys, but you managed a smile at the comment. You followed Pepper into the salon, Natasha at your side. 

Pepper showed you through the process: type, color and/or design, and the actual process of getting a mani-pedi. After a discussion with a technician, you chose Shellac polish and Natasha helped you pick out the colors and design (white daisies on a blue background) before you were led to a chair. 

“So, we have all day,” began Pepper. 

“Without the boys,” added Natasha. 

“Yes, we have all day  _ without the boys _ to get to know each other. I’m honestly very excited. Did you know you’re the first person Peter’s brought over to the tower?” asked Pepper. “Other than his Aunt May.” 

“No… Not even Ned? Or MJ, or… anyone?” 

Natasha gave you a knowing smile. “Not even them. You’re the first person Peter’s age to come over. He thinks there would be too many rumors going around if he brought Ned over, apparently that was how they started the first time.” 

Ah, yes. That was a good memory. “Yeah, Ned sort of shouted that Peter knew everyone in the middle of gym once. Flash made sure the school knew about it by the end of the day. School rumor mills and all that.” 

“Really? Peter never mentioned a Flash,” said Natasha. 

You didn’t know what to say to that. Peter didn’t mention Flash? Why not? Then again, why would he? It’s not like you ever mentioned Flash to your dad before the dinner. “Flash isn’t the most well-liked person,” you decided on with a shrug. “He’s a bit of a bully. I’m pretty sure he starts most of the school rumors.” 

“I see,” replied Pepper thoughtfully. “I take it you don’t get along well with him?” 

You shook your head, glancing at your nails as the technician worked on them. “I don’t. It was weird though, my dad invited his dad over for dinner a while ago and it wasn’t all that bad. I was expecting him to start spreading rumors about me but he didn’t. I just went to school the next day and it was normal.” 

“Interesting. Peter doesn’t discuss any rumors, does he?” Pepper asked Natasha. 

“He talks about a lot, but I think you’re right,” said Natasha. “He usually just goes straight to the lab to work with Tony.” 

“Exactly,” agreed Pepper. “I just realized, I don’t think I’ve thanked you, y/n.”

“Thanked me?” 

“For not going to the media,” she clarified. “Tony may have mentioned something about the quiet ones causing the most trouble. I had P.R. keep an eye on any stories, but there wasn’t anything new reported.” 

“Oh.” You were slightly offended by the implication, but after some thought it made sense. Besides, she had invited you for today, so clearly she hadn’t thought much of what Mr. Stark had said. “It never even came to mind, if I’m being honest. I was - am - just excited for the opportunity. And I kind of already met so many of them that it was just...” You gave a small shrug, not sure of how to phrase it. “It would’ve been weird.” 

Pepper tilted her head slightly. “You’ve met them before?” 

Pepper hadn’t been there, you realized. You could’ve face palmed if your nails weren’t being painted. “Yeah.” You dragged out the word as you put together what you wanted to say. “I met Steve first, but I didn’t really know who… I didn’t recognise him. He was at my favorite coffee shop and he had a cap on and fake glasses. I don’t even know how that worked but I told him to try the mocha.” You laughed lightly. “And then next time I saw him, he brought over James, but he had a full leather jacket and biker gloves so there wasn’t anything giving him away. Although, I was  _ fully _ convinced James had the potential to drug me the first time I met him.” 

“Well you weren’t necessarily wrong,” pointed out Natasha. “He probably could have.”

“I mean, he offered to buy me an Irish coffee but I turned him down like any responsible person would. Then I went home, I didn’t really think about it. Anyways, when we met at the tower, I said the first thing that came to mind and it was  _ so stupid _ . Right in front of everyone, too.”

Pepper turned her questioning look to Natasha who relayed that part of the story. “She told them that they, and I quote, ‘look so different without caps.’”

“That’s not so bad,” smiled Pepper. “Come on, it could’ve gone worse. You could have mentioned potentially being drugged.” 

“Oh God, no.” The three of you laughed at the idea, however mortifying it was on your end. “I think I would have died of embarrassment,” you decided. “On the spot. If things had gone any worse.” 

“I have to tell him that,” muttered Natasha. “Make sure that he stays away from your drinks.”

“Please don’t,” you replied. Your first thought was to text James and tell him not to believe anything Natasha said. “I can’t imagine what he would say, I’ll never be able to show my face in the tower again.”

After the story and a few laughs, you found it a lot easier to keep a conversation with the ladies. While the worry about not fitting in was still there, it was no longer the thought at the forefront of your mind. Within a couple of hours, your mani-pedi was complete. You thanked both the technician and Pepper on your way out. 

Pepper assured you that it was her pleasure and reminded you that there were a few more stops on the agenda. “Are you sure you’re alright catching the subway by yourself?” she asked as the black car from earlier pulled up. “You know which mall, right?” 

You nodded politely. “Manhattan Mall first.” When you were done there, you’d stop at Macy’s and Brookfield Place was last. 

“Yes. Alright, well, we’ll see you soon. Just... text me if there are any problems?”

If you weren’t mistaken, she sounded worried about you. “Sure thing. I’ll see you both in about twenty minutes,” you assured her, sending her and Natasha a little wave as they left. 

You made it to the subway with no issues, and on the train you decided that it might be worth it to send James that text. 

**_You:_ ** _ Hey James _

_ Could you do me a small favor and not listen to Natasha if she mentions anything I told her today? _

It took some time to send, considering you were underground. You had to wait until you were at the next station.

**_James:_ ** _ Why not? _

**_You:_ ** _ Because I said something dumb and she said she might bring it up _

**_James:_ ** _ Well now I have to ask her about it. _

**_You:_ ** _ JAMES!! _

_ JAMES NO!! _

_ JAMES!!!! _

_ THAT IS LITERALLY THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF WHAT I ASKED YOU TO DO, JAMES  _

_ James pls no _

_ Please please please no _

**_James:_ ** _ YOU THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DRUG YOU?  _

And the day had been going so well...

_ Y/n, answer the question  _ demanded the next text.

_ I mean, I didn’t say THAT. _ you sent out.  _ I MAY have said you LOOKED LIKE you *COULD* drug me. But Natasha also said that I technically wasn’t wrong.  _ You added a shruggie emoji to the end and waited. It took awhile for anything to come back as the train got going again. The next stop would be yours.

**_James:_ ** _ You accepted the phone number of a person who looked like they could drug you?? Like it’s normal? _

“Like it’s normal,” you mocked under your breath, careful of your step as you exited the train. “Yeah, of course, cuz I meet people like that all the time.” You rolled your eyes before texting back.  _ First of all, I didn’t want to be rude. Secondly, you looked worried. And I’m definitely not approached by guys who look like they could drug me on the regular so no, not “like it’s normal.”  _

After a moment you added a second text with  _ And you weren’t that awful, I didn’t think you would *actually* drug me even if you MIGHT have been capable of it. I mean, Steve was right there that first time and he wouldn’t even let you buy me a coffee. Also, you did punch a guy who harassed me in the street so you can’t have been all bad. _

**_James:_ ** _ The fact that you even let me walk you to the subway was a questionable judgement call. And you bought coffee for a guy who looked like he was capable of drugging you _ ?

Now that was totally unfair, because you had only bought him coffee after you discovered he was an Avenger. Besides, he had literally punched a guy for you, you did sort of owe him. You mentioned both reasons to him with a reminder of the pepper spray, wondering what he might come up with as a response. For a while, you didn’t even think he would respond.

It ended up being a statement, followed by a question.  _ You definitely did not “owe me” that guy was an ass, he deserved it. _

_ You collect mugs, right? _

That was a sudden topic change.  **_You:_ ** _ ?? I do, why? _

**_James:_ ** _ Just making sure. _

Even though the reply technically answered your question, it also definitely did not answer your question. 

**_You:_ ** _ But why tho _

_ You’re not actually gonna…?  _

James sent an ominous  _ Do you really think I’d give you a heads up if I wanted to drug you? Because I wouldn’t.  _ Followed by  _ I just wanted to get you a new mug is all. _

Maybe you’d let Natasha tell James to stay away from your drinks after all. But still… A new mug…  _ No boring mugs, _ you sent back. You wouldn't want to mistake his gift for something the lieutenant owned.  _ It’s gotta have a quote. Preferably something sarcastic but witty puns are also acceptable. Sometimes a good drawing, but no company logos. _

**_James:_ ** _ I’ll ask Stark about it, he’s pretty good with that. _

You considered the text. That made it sound like he was getting you something customized, but that couldn’t be right, could it? You didn’t have time to think about it though, because you had arrived at your stop. You ended the conversation with a quick  _ Okay then? I gtg tho, girls’ day out. Ttyl  _

You laughed at the message he sent back telling you to have fun and avoid getting drugged as you made your way up to street level. After exchanging several texts, you managed to find Natasha and Pepper in front of Starbucks. 

You let the ladies show you to some of their favorite stores and ended up carrying around about four bags before you dropped them off in Mrs. Potts black car. Or rather, you learned, Happy’s black car. Happy accompanied you three for lunch in a restaurant nearby before you once again split off from the group with a promise to meet again at Brookfield Place. 

Being on the train provided a nice break from all the interaction. You weren’t exactly the most social person at school, and even at the tower you usually kept quiet. A part of you was convinced you might get a sore throat from all the talking you had done. 

Brookfield Place was well known for its high end stores, so you’d never been one to shop there, but you visited the ice arena whenever it was open. It had once been a tradition for your family to go skating there every weekend, but it hadn’t felt the same without your mom. Eventually you just went by yourself. 

But that wasn’t the plan today. For once you were actually shopping. The experience went the same way shopping at Macy’s and Manhattan Mall; you let them show you around and all encouraged each other to try on different outfits. 

Pepper was trying to convince you that you should get a rather expensive forest-green jacket when you had finally pulled out the excuse of not having enough space in your closet. 

“Just keep it at the tower,” persuaded Natasha. “I’m sure we have enough spare rooms for you to have one.” 

Your jaw dropped at the casual offer and you stared dumbly. She had known you for, what, a week? And she was offering you a room in the tower? You turned your look to Pepper, who shrugged. 

“It’d certainly give you a reason to come around more often. You can have the room across from Peter’s, on the main level. I think he mentioned you were coming over on Tuesday, right? I’ll have to order some extra tacos.” 

Tacos? Oh, she must have thought you were staying for dinner. Or was this a subtle invitation to dinner? Would it be rude to decline? Probably. Why was she so nice? “Uh, yeah, Tuesday, he wanted me to help finish the project and test it out. I'm looking forward to it, honestly," you smiled. "But really, a whole room to myself? You haven't known me for that long, I'm sure I could figure something out if there's anything I really want." 

Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Like the jacket you're wearing?"

You glanced back down at the jacket and turned back to the mirror. "Do you really think it looks  _ that  _ good on me?" 

"Yes," they insisted simultaneously. 

"Fine," you caved. "Fine, I'll save this one at the tower in case I ever get caught in the rain, I guess." 

At the end of the day, you were tired from all the shopping but incredibly happy. You were telling Pepper about which clothes you'd take home when Natasha mentioned making a quick stop at an athletics shop to buy some new workout gear. The three of you doubled back as Natasha whispered something to Pepper. You ignored the thought that it might have been about you and continued walking.

While you weren't the most out of shape person, you'd never had many athletic clothes. You supposed this outing provided an opportunity to buy some and get into shape. After all, the two women next to you were practically models and you were just… yourself. After buying a few sets, and Natasha grabbing a pair of leggings, you left the store to see Happy sitting at a bench near the door. You found it slightly odd, considering you hadn't seen him for most of the day except lunch, but you didn't say anything of it. 

You hoped your voice could convey how sincere you were when you said "Thank you so much for today, both of you. It was amazing."

Natasha gave you a small nudge, and you found it didn’t really bother you. "Hey, we're glad you could make it. Now I know you said you're fine on your own, but why don't I walk you home? It's getting late." 

"Oh, you don't have to go out of your way like that," you tried. "I'd hate to be a bother. Especially if you two had plans to go out somewhere else, like dancing or something." 

"I wouldn't offer if it was a bother to me," frowned Natasha. "I'm walking home with you whether you like it or not, I’m sure Pepper and Happy can get home just fine.” 

“Alright then…” you conceded. “Why don’t I grab some of my stuff from the car? And whatever I leave can stay at the tower.”

The ladies exchanged a look. Natasha’s voice sounded slightly less happy, but she allowed it. “Sounds fine.”

Happy led you all to where he had parked the car and you quickly sorted through your new buys. You ended up taking the bag of clothes from Macy’s and a couple from stores in Manhattan Mall. You were sure to leave the jacket and about a third of your new belongings from Brookfield Place; they looked amazing on you, but you wouldn’t have an occasion to wear them any time soon. 

You had said your goodbyes to Pepper and Happy before leading Natasha to the subway line. Natasha, like usual, didn’t push you to talk, but after the nonstop chattering all day, the silence felt awkward. Maybe it was just you though. 

“So, I was wondering,” you ventured, “since you and Mr. Barton are best friends, do you know sign language? Does he know sign language?” 

“Call him Clint, he hates being called Mr. Barton. And yes, we both know sign language,” confirmed Natasha. “Do you?” 

You shook your head. “I’m studying French though, I’m in my third year.” 

Then, in what you assumed was perfect french, she asked if you enjoyed it. 

“ _ Non, je déteste ça! C'est ma pire classe! _ ” (No, I hate it! It’s my worst class!) you answered after a moment of thought. “It doesn’t matter much though, because to get into French four I have to go on the study abroad trip, and that’s not happening so I’m done after finals.” 

“That’s a shame. You never know when a language can come in handy.”

“Meh. How many languages do you know? French, ASL, English…” you listed. 

“Russian, Spanish, and about ten others,” she conversed. “Peter’s keeping track of all the places I’ve been to.” 

You jumped onto the conversation topic eagerly, relieved that you could continue discussion during the short ride. Apparently, however, Natasha well and truly meant to walk you home. 

She let you try and keep her talking for about a block before asking “You don’t like silence much, do you?”

You almost stopped walking as your nerves from that morning came back full force. “Um, I - Sorry, I just - I didn’t mean to talk so much, I just didn’t want to be rude or make things awkward. I’ll be fine, if you want to go.” 

“Relax,” Natasha insisted. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, but it’s just surprising. You don’t talk much at the tower, and I thought you were just a quiet person, but today you seemed more relaxed.”

She caught you there. You avoided talking at the tower because you didn’t know what to say, but today had been fun. You had let your guard down around the two amazing women, even if you were terrified they’d realize you weren’t worth it. “Well, it was a lot less people,” you rationalized as you turned the corner. “The tower is always loud. Everyone else just seems to have so much to say that I don’t have anything to add. I’m used to quiet. It’s just me and my father, he isn’t much of a talker.” 

Natasha hummed appreciatively, and the rest of the walk was silent. There wasn’t much more to it though, and you were in front of the door and waving goodnight in no time. You were ready to spend the rest of the night in your room on your phone when you had a bright idea. 

_ Got home safely and not drugged. :)  _ you sent.

**_James:_ ** _ I am now expecting this text nightly, thank you.  _

You couldn’t help but laugh.  _ Aw, are you worried for me James? _

**_James:_ ** _ Yes.  _ Oh. That was unexpected.  _ I don’t trust you know how to use pepper spray. _

Okay, what? Was he degrading you now? How rude.  _ Maybe I should demonstrate to you that I do, in fact, know how to use pepper spray -.- We can test if you’re immune to it or not. _

**_James:_ ** _ Why so mean :(:( I’m just concerned for your well being.  _

**_You:_ ** _ “I don’t trust you know how to use pepper spray.” You basically called me incompetent, jerk.  _

**_James:_ ** _ Hey, only Steve gets to call me jerk _

While a few possible innuendos came to mind, you decided you just let it be with a casual  _ whatever _ . 

You fully believed that the conversation had ended when he sent another message.  _ Coffee tomorrow?  _

**_You:_** _Considering our conversation topic, I think I’ll decline._

**_James:_ ** _ I’ll bring Steve _

**_You:_ ** _ Are you planning on corrupting him so he’ll take part in your heinous scheme to drug me?  _

_ Actually, don’t answer that, because you said you wouldn’t give me a heads up. _

**_James:_ ** _ First of all, Steve corrupted me, not the other way around. Secondly, no I wouldn’t, but do you really trust me that little? Come on doll. You have my word that it’s just coffee. _

The offer was tempting. And it was a Sunday, after all, just a cleaning day. Your father was likely to be out all day doing whatever he did on the weekends, so it’s not like your absence would be noted. You could make a new tradition of it… Super Soldier Sunday. It was that ridiculous thought that prompted your acceptance.  _ King’s Brew at 4:30 p.m? I’ve got work tomorrow so I won’t be able to stay for long. _

**_James:_ ** _ Fine by me _

You settled down for the evening after that, scrolling through your phone until you were tired enough for sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I imply a coffee date but that’s not the next chapter, friends. I did not have the brain power for it and there’s very little I can do with a coffee shop scene considering what I have planned. You can imagine your own lil scene, but the inspo I have to write that? Like -0.05 right now. If I start writing it, I’m going to get stuck on it, and I don’t want that for you all. It’s just not worth it. You get Peter fluff in the next chapter though!! So that's pretty nice.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you're invited to a party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, did I post that last chapter early? This one too? It's because the number of bookmarks on this work floored me. I love checking stats. My stats page said we have 260 subscribers and 200 bookmarks and that’s AMAZING!   
> Fun fact: about halfway through this I tried watching the Civil War CinemaSins and lost it. What’s it? Oh, just the little sanity I had left… Anyways, enjoy the Fluff

It was Tuesday, and you were collecting your things from your locker before your walk to the tower. It’d take some time but the weather was nice and Peter had offered to accompany you after how adamant you were on not riding in a car. You were looking forward to your time together. 

You closed your locker door after collecting your things, only to see Flash standing right beside you. “What the hell do you want?”

“Quite the greeting. Listen, I’m hosting a party next Friday, right after finals.” 

You shot him down instantly and began to walk away. “Nope.” 

“Come on, you owe me.” 

You swivelled back around. “I  _ what  _ now?” 

“You owe me. No rumors. No photos. My friends kept their lips sealed. So, now you owe me,” he explained. “I know your dad’s going to be away that weekend, you’re gonna be alone with nothing to do.”

How in hell did he know that? Your face must have given away your shock because he said “My dad’s going on the same trip, he mentioned it. Anyways, they’ll be gone. Which means you’re free-” 

“No? I could’ve made plans.”

“Could’ve, which means you haven’t yet.” Damn it. How’d he catch that? “Also, you don’t have a social life, so yeah, you’re free. Party on Friday. Next Friday.” 

Okay, that was just plain rude. “Flash, let's say I even want to attend - which I really don’t - I don’t get in cars for anything or anyone so,” you shrugged. “There is zero chance of me going if I can’t get there by train.” 

“Well that means there is currently a more-than-zero chance of you going because I am certain that you can catch a train to Brooklyn,” he smirked. “I’m hoping that chance is one hundred.” 

You took a long blink. Somehow this was worse than him asking you out. “Is that all? Because I’ve got places to be.” 

He handed you a card from his wallet. A legitimate business card with his name, address, and phone number which you immediately thought to block at the first chance. “It’s at my apartment.” 

“Whatever, bye,” you said quickly. You entered the information into a contact on your phone and tucked the card away in case you’d need it to get in or something.

Lucky for you, Peter was still waiting at the main entrance when you exited. “Hey, Peter!” you smiled. “Sorry I took so long, got a little held up was all.” 

“Nah, it’s fine, no biggie.” He shoved his phone into his pocket as you got closer. “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed, beginning the walk. “Did you know Flash is hosting a party on the last day of school? Cuz he just invited me to it.” 

“I didn’t, actually. I’m guessing you said no?”

“I didn’t say anything. Well, I told him there’s zero chance of me going if I can’t take a train there and he said there was a train and now the chance is less than zero. And he’s trying to call it a favor because I apparently owe him.” 

“For what?” 

“For not spreading a rumor about me.” You glanced at Peter from the corner of your eye. “I know, I know. I was expecting him to do something right after the dinner, but this is what I get instead and I don’t know if it’s better or worse.”

A silence fell between you both before Peter asked “So... Are you going to go?”

You mulled it over. “I think I kinda have to. If I don’t he’ll just start a rumor about me anyways, and knowing the stuff Flash comes up with it’s probably not a good idea to give him a reason to. And now that his father knows mine… I don’t want trouble on that end.” 

Peter didn’t seem to understand. “Wait, so you’d get in trouble for a rumor but he’d let you go to a party?” 

You inspected a shirt in a store you passed as you answered. “Uh, no, actually. Apparently our parents are going on a business trip together so Flash knew I’d be available.”

“Cap would hate that I’m saying this, but you could’ve lied.”

“I tried, he called me out on it.” Your nose scrunched in irritation. 

“That sucks,” Peter sympathized. 

“It does, I wanted to ask if anything was planned at the tower that weekend. Now I have to go to a party that’s probably going to be loud, and crowded, and a total mess, by myself, and I really don’t want to.” You aggressively kicked a stick lying on the sidewalk. 

You watched it roll to a stop in front of a store’s open doorway and glanced inside. It sold printed shirts, for the most part, but also knick-knacks. Peter had stopped with you, and you pointed at the display case that caught your attention. “Are those Avengers plushies?” 

His eyes took on an excited gleam. “We should get them!” 

You both entered the shop. The shopkeeper gave a bright hello, which you both returned politely. You followed closely behind Peter as he made a beeline to the corner they were situated in. 

Peter let out a little gasp. “They have Spider-Man! Oh my God, they light up too!” You heard a little click, and the eyes of the Spider-Man toy shined. 

“They even have James,” you realized. That particular toy had LEDs along the gray ‘metal’ arm. “I guess he’s become pretty popular since he joined the team.”

“James? You mean Sergeant Barnes? His name is Bucky,” said Peter. The amount of conviction in his voice worried you. 

“No…” You began to doubt yourself before remembering that his name was actually in history books. “No, Bucky is his nickname.” 

“He wouldn’t lie to me like that.”

“He didn’t lie to either of us.” You held up the stuffed toy. “James Buchanan Barnes. It’s a history fact. Cap’s right hand man and part of the Howling Commandos? I learned this in like, eighth grade.” 

He was resolute. “No. Lies. Why would you slander him like that?” 

“Peter, I can literally call him right now and ask.”

“I dare you.” 

“Dare accepted.” You slipped off your backpack and pulled your phone from the pocket it had been in. “Record this, I want it as a memory.”

Peter got his phone from his pocket and you were both in frame when he started recording. You smiled and showed his phone the contact before hitting the call icon.

The phone rang a few times before he picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s y/n,” you started, careful not to use any particular name.

“Yeah, I saw the caller ID, Doll. Everything alright?” he asked.

_ Doll _ . “Yeah, I’m fine, me and Peter are on our way to the tower. I just had a quick question. I’m gonna put you on speaker so Peter can hear the answer.”

“Alright,” he drawled. 

You turned the speaker volume down so it’d only be you and Peter listening. “What is your full name?” 

You were worried that the signal somehow disconnected when you didn’t hear an answer immediately. “Is this a joke?” he asked. 

Okay, signal still there. “No, it’s real. That’s the question. What’s your full name?”

Another lengthy pause. “James Buchanan Barnes,” he drawled.

Peter let out a noise of distress. He looked between you and the two phones with distraught evident on his face. 

It was just too good. “Okay, second question, what’s your  _ nickname _ ?” 

Another pause. “Bucky.” You started laughing at Peter’s tearful expression, and silently mouthed  _ told you so. _ “What’s so funny? What’s going on over there?”

“Peter thought your name was Bucky. Like your real name was Bucky,” you revealed. 

“Oh. Sorry, kid. Did you guys make a bet or something?” 

“No, I just get the satisfaction of being right. Anyways, we’ll be at the tower in about twenty minutes, thanks, James.” 

“Alright, you kids stay safe.” 

“Sure thing, bye.” 

“Bye.” 

You ended the call and gave Peter a pitying look. “Are you going to be alright?” 

“Yeah…”

If he were a puppy, his ears would be drooping. “Why don’t we buy these and get going?” you said, taking pity on him. You carried the plushies of the Winter Soldier, Captain America, the Falcon, and the Black Widow to the checkout. Peter followed with Spider-Man, Iron Man, Hulk, Thor, and Hawkeye. You split the cost and each left with a bag in hand and made your merry way to the Tower. 

“You know that you don’t have to go alone,” Peter said as you turned the corner of the building to get to the side door. It took you a moment to realize he meant the party. “I can come with, if you want.”

“Um, rumor has it you don’t really have the best track record with parties. Or Flash. Are you sure you’d want to do that?” 

“Well, you didn’t sound like you wanted to stay for long, so I wouldn’t mind going if you wanted.” He jogged ahead and typed a code into the keypad beside the door before pressing his hand to a scanner that appeared. Finally, he took a key from his pocket and twisted it in the keyhole. You blinked a few times at the now open door. “Three factor verification. Each person has a different key and code. And fingerprints, of course. The three have to match the files before the door opens.” 

You nodded and walked through the door he held open. Made sense… sort of. “The door was unlocked when I came for breakfast, though?” 

“Uhhhh, FRIDAY, do you know why?” Peter questioned. 

“Sergeant Barnes requested I open it.”

You nodded and held up the bag in your hand. “So how are we going to give these to them? Just hand it over?” 

“I never actually thought about that. We can hide them in my room until we figure it out. Fri, don’t tell Mr. Stark, okay?” 

She gave him an affirmative response as the elevator went up.

You followed Peter to his room and were instantly taken aback by the Spider-Man themed everything. From his curtains to his bedding and even his desk set. The room was also incredibly spacious and fastidiously neat (which you would not have expected at all based on the state of his backpack). “Wow.”

“Huh? Oh.” Peter glanced around his room. “Yeah, it was an April Fool’s prank, I just left it all up.” 

“Well, at least Spider-Man knows he’s got themed merch,” you joked. 

“What?” Peter turned to face you, a look of horror on his face. 

“Spider-Man… the one who got you the merch?” you explained hesitantly. “Pulled the prank on you?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Why- why don’t we go to the lab?” His voice, once again, raised a pitch higher.

You were really beginning to question Peter’s behavior. First the web shooters, now this? He… maybe he was Spider-Man. “Sure.” 

You spun around to exit and faced the door across Peter’s. The door across Peter’s that led to the room across Peter’s. Which you had been offered. The door to the room you had been offered. The door… to your room at the tower?

From behind you, Peter broke your focus. “Uh, y/n?” 

You realized you were standing in the doorway and moved away as your face heated. “Sorry.” You glanced back at the door and then down to your nails. “I just… Can I tell you something a little weird?”

“Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.” He leaned against his door frame and crossed his arms.

_ Damn, that’s kinda cute- Get your mind on track!  _ “So, the other day I went out with Pepper and Natasha and we got our nails done -” you flipped a hand around to show him the design, even though he had complimented it the day before “- and did some shopping. A lot of shopping, actually, and I mentioned that I didn’t really have enough space in my closet for everything-” your voice began to taper down to a mumble “-and they sort of offered me the room across from yours.”

“Wait, really?!” He jumped up from the door so he was standing straight.

You nodded twice. “I don’t know if they meant it, though. I mean, they have no reason to offer me something like that, I don’t work here or anything.”

“Well, they have no reason to lie.” He reached for the door. “Let’s check it out!” 

“Peter, wait.” You slid in front of the door. “What if this is a bad idea?” 

“They offered you the room.” 

“They didn’t give us permission to be in there, though.”

“I’m pretty sure the permission is implied in the title of it being  _ your room _ .”

On your right, a voice from the ceiling stated “it is" right before a figure landed in the hall. 

You jumped back and bumped into the door. “Holy-” you covered your mouth before any expletives could be uttered.

“You know, I think that’s the loudest I’ve heard you since we met,” announced Clint. “Sorry for scaring you.”

You removed your hands from your mouth and glanced over at Peter, who didn’t seem at all bothered. “ _ Where _ did you-?”

“The vent.” Clint pointed over his head. “Anyways, Nat told me about the room. Your stuff should be in there if you wanna check it out.” 

You blinked a few times and turned to Peter. “You heard Mr. Hawkeye, come on. Open the door, it’s your room.” 

“This feels like a trick,” you muttered under your breath. Your hand was on the doorknob. 

“It’s not,” assured Peter. His hand was on your shoulder and you shrugged it off before twisting the door open. 

There were large windows on the side directly opposite, spanning the length of the wall and illuminating a space just as big as Peter’s. The bed was situated in the middle of the wall on your right, covered in royal purple sheets. In fact, purple seemed to be the theme of the space. Not that you minded, it certainly wasn’t a bad color. 

“Your things should be in the closet, you could probably organize them if you want,” said Clint, who was now a few steps closer. 

“I don’t know if they’re mine, really. I mean, Pepper was the one who bought them.” They were way too expensive to be yours. 

“They were bought for you, ergo yours. Don’t make me get Nat to force you into there, kid, it’s your room. Go on,” urged Clint. 

You took a couple steps inside and a disbelieving smile crossed your face. “This has to be a joke.” 

“No, goodness, just open the closet already,” said Clint. His voice was an odd mix of annoyed and humored. 

There were two doors opposite the bed and you opened the one farthest from the door to reveal a full bathroom. A very modern, very luxurious full bathroom. “Woah. This definitely can’t be my room.” You backtracked quickly.

“That’s not the closet!” countered Peter, entering the room himself. “You can’t just  _ ignore  _ the potential evidence.” 

“The potential evidence definitely shouldn’t be in this room! It is way too nice.” 

“This is the average room at the tower,” said Clint. “Actually, some rooms even have a sitting area. Or T.V. Or a minifridge. Or all three. This is the most basic room you can get, aside from Vision’s but he’s… He doesn’t have necessities, so that doesn’t count.”

Peter had opened the second door by that point and returned with a few clothes in hand. “Did you buy this?” he asked, holding up one of the new shirts.

“Nope,” you said instantly. That shirt was 60 dollars, in no way did you have money for it.

“Was it bought for you or in your company during a shopping trip that occurred this past Saturday?” specified Clint. 

“Maybe…” 

Peter tossed the shirt to you and you barely managed to catch it before it hit your face. “It’s a yes or no question!” 

Taken aback by his shouting, you frantically shouted back “Yes!”

“Is this yours?” He held up another top.

“Yeah,” you replied. He threw the second clothing article to you and wordlessly held up a pair of pants. “Yes.” The green jacket that caused your troubles was the next thing. “Also yes, but-” Your hands were already full, so the jacket smacked you in the face full force. You fell back, landing on your butt with clothes sprawled around you. 

“Oh, shoot, sorry, are you okay?” Peter rushed over to help you up. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you laughed, accepting his hand hesitantly. “Not the worst way to get smacked in the face,” you brushed off. You’d know. “But this-”

“Are these your clothes?” interrupted Peter. 

You suddenly understood how James must have felt when you called him earlier. “I guess so.” 

“I found these clothes in this closet. And if that’s the case, then this must be  _ your closet _ .” 

“Are you referencing a Spongebob meme?” 

“That’s not the next line of it, but yes,” he grinned. “That’s exactly what you sound like right now.”

You gaped. “Is that supposed to help me accept this?”

“Yes.” 

What you hated about it was that it worked. “Now I have to clean up the mess you made in... the room I’m allowed to stay in.” 

Peter made an exasperated sound and you glanced over to Clint, who was hovering in the doorway the whole time. “You’ll get there,” he shrugged. “Hey, Pete, why don’t you go see if Tony wants anything? Let y/n get used to having this space for herself, hm?”

He agreed quickly and you promised you’d be down after reorganizing the closet. 

“Uh, hey, FRIDAY?” you tested once you were alone.

“Is there something you need, Miss y/l/n?” 

“No, I just wanted to know if you were here.” You picked up the clothes from the floor and glanced around. There weren’t any decorations, unless one counted the clock hanging opposite the bed, but you weren’t terribly bothered by it. It wasn’t like you planned on staying there any time soon. 

The closet was far bigger than you imagined it would be, making the clothes hanging seem rather few. You sorted them how you wanted, but kept them all close together and easy to access. The green jacket was the only thing you kept separate. It hung by itself on the back of the door. 

Satisfied with your work, you left for the lab with one last glance at your room.  _ Your _ room. That’d take some time to get used to. It’d certainly be nice, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flash is sus. What do you all think about the room? Did you enjoy the two chapters? I hope you did.   
> Also, at what point do I add the tag "Crack taken seriously" because like....Pencil colors? Plushies? Where do these ideas come from? I don't know. Leave a comment about who you'd most want a light up plushie of. Mine would be black widow. Not mentioned are the other avengers and the tesseract (Because some kids just want a soft, glowy blue cube and nobody is judging)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you meet Bruce Banner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii midterms are coming up and I'm Scared, and the (early) due dates for college applications are the SAME WEEK and that's terrifying.
> 
> Fun Fact, I wrote chapter 32 before remembering that you needed to meet Bruce Banner. I kinda just _imagined_ it and forgot to write it. It’s chill. I think… I dunno, I envisioned this happening right after the last chapter but then it felt wrong, so I moved it a few days over. And Then I added a part that I wrote and couldn’t find a place for and realized that it might belong here, with this! And can I just say it worked out perfectly? Well, I’ll let you decide that for yourself.

The following Thursday went much the same way as Tuesday, minus the confrontation with Flash. 

You met Peter outside the main entrance with a grin, exchanging pleasantries and stories about your day. 

“What electives are you taking?” asked Peter after a story about his band class. 

“I’ve got double mechanics and double comp sci,” you told him. “Last semester I had baking and a different coding class.”

“Doesn’t it take three classes to get into the baking one?” You nodded. “So you like cooking then?”

“I like having an excuse to eat at school,” you laughed. “But that too. I’d rather it taste good than have it look pretty, really.” 

Peter laughed along with you. “May is a terrible cook. She tries and we always end up going out. There was this one time when we tried making pie together and it didn't work well at all.” He began to share stories about his Aunt May’s worst cooking disasters, ranked. You listened as he described times she had over seasoned, under seasoned, overcooked, burned, and/or set food aflame. 

“Why are you walking so slowly?” he asked after number four, a chicken casserole. “I mean, really, we should’ve been there like five minutes ago.”

You hadn’t realized that he was following your lead. “Sorry, I’ve just been a bit tired lately,” you excused, trying to pick up your pace. “I didn’t mean to waste time.” 

“You’re fine, and we’re not wasting time. I like talking to you. But like… I dunno, do you want me to carry your bag for you?” he offered. “If you’re tired.”

“Seriously?” 

He stopped and held a hand out expectantly. “Yeah, hand it over.”

“Are you sure?” you checked. “My bag is pretty heavy.” 

“I’ll be fine, come on.” 

You slid the bag off your shoulders, relishing in the release of the weight, if only for the moment. Surely Peter would hand it back when he realized how heavy it was. But he simply put it on so the back of your bag was at his front and kept walking.

Your jaw dropped. “Are you like, not carrying anything in your bag or something?” 

Peter shrugged. He adjusted a bag strap as it slipped. “I’ve been working out a lot since I started hanging out with the Avengers.” 

“Sheesh. Well, thanks, my back was aching,” you told him appreciatively. 

“It’s no problem. You should’ve mentioned something, though, I would have offered earlier. Really, anytime you want me to carry something, just ask.”

You laughed at the first thought that came to mind. “Bet you still can’t carry the weight of my sins.” 

“Well, according to Cap, you’re an angel, so the weight of your sins is like, what, the weight of a feather?” he retorted. “I think I’ll be fine.” 

Your smile widened. “Oh, you’re going to pull that card on me? I didn’t even do anything amazing, I just bought some coffee!” 

“They literally could’ve bought their own coffee. They live with a billionaire.” 

“Okay, I know, but I was being nice,” you defended. 

“Exactly,” agreed Peter. “Which makes you a good person.” 

“Yeah! A good person, not an angel.” 

“Whatever you say,” he agreed. You huffed at the placation and started poking fun at him for his own perfect mannerisms, which he humored during the remaining walk to the tower. He even (rather cheekily) added some of his own. 

When you entered the lab, Mr. Stark was discussing something with a second person you didn’t recognize at first.

“Oh, hey, kids,” greeted Mr. Stark. The other man turned around and your jaw fell slack. 

“Uh, hi.” _ That’s Bruce Banner. _ This is worse than when you met Mr. Stark. At least you had been prepared to meet Mr. Stark. 

“Ace, this is Dr. Bruce Banner, although it looks like you already recognized him.” Mr. Stark smirked slightly. “Brucie, this y/n, Pete’s history partner. They’re working on a project.” 

“Good to meet you,” he said kindly. “History project?”

_ Bruce Banner is asking me a question. I should stop gaping like an  _ idiot  _ and answer it. _ “Uh, yeah. Um… The model is on the table behind you.”

He turned around to see the first car you were both working on. 

“We’re building a flying car,” added Peter, “based off of Howard Stark’s.” 

“Interesting,” said the scientist. You were sure it was probably anything but, for him. That car was nothing but a fancy kids’ toy, the man had nearly 10 Ph.Ds under his belt. “Does it work?” 

“We’re still putting it together,” you said nervously, “but when it’s assembled it should.”

“Sounds fun. I’ll leave you to it. Tony, we’ll finish talking later.” 

You pointed to the vacant space after he was gone. “That was Bruce Banner.” 

Mr. Stark was moving around his lab, fiddling with different projects before coming to rest in front of one. “Yes it was.”

“Does he… Visit often?”

“He lives here,” said Peter. He removed both bags from his shoulders. “I met him a couple weeks ago. It’s crazy right? But he’s really cool. He likes drinking tea and meditating and reads a lot, and he’s sorta quiet, like you. I think you’d get along well if you got to know each other.” 

You blinked a few times. Did you hear that correctly? “Got to know Bruce Banner? Like, the man who’s made discoveries that changed science as we knew it? Got to know him?” 

“Yeah,” piped up Mr. Stark. “I mean, you’re getting to know the rest of the team pretty well, and you get along with all us just fine, even though we’re all loud and obnoxious. Bruce was pretty quiet when we first started. He’s still like that, but he spent some time around Thor recently, so he’s opened up a bit. Mind you, you’d probably get along great with Thor too. He’s loud but a giant softie.” 

“What about L-” Peter began.    
  
“Tread carefully!” warned Mr. Stark. “No offense, Ace,” he added, “but it is really in everyone’s best interests that anything  _ confidential  _ stays that way.” 

“Ah…” Peter paused. “Lang?”

“Uh-huh,” said Mr. Stark. “I doubt y/n’s even heard of him.” 

“Have you ever heard of Ant-Man?” Peter asked you. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Is he like a knock-off version of Spider-Man?” 

Mr. Stark snorted. “No. The name’s pretty misleading, considering he can change to whatever size he wants.” 

“Hm. Interesting.”

Peter began to walk around the room after slipping off both bags. “He was the one that was like, the size of a building during the uh, Avenger’s face off,” he supplied.

“Oh! Him! That was his second time being convicted, wasn’t it?” you recalled. “He was that one guy who hacked into all those corporate files and then broke into some businessperson's house, right?” 

“I don’t know why you would know that but yes, him,” confirmed Mr. Stark.

“My father pays attention to stuff like that.” You contemplated what it would mean that you were correct. “So, Peter, you think I’d get along with a convicted felon?” 

Peter’s face grew red. “I just mean you’d probably get along with anyone.” 

You made a face. There were a few people you didn’t get along with, but you weren’t going to point them all out. “Anyone else you know from the Avengers that you think I’d get along well with?”

“Shuri,” he answered immediately. “You’d love her.”

Mr. Stark gave him a blank look and pointed a screwdriver at him. “That sounds like a terrifying combination.” 

Your head turned between the two of them. “Who’s Shuri?” 

“The princess of Wakanda! She’s great. I met her once and we video call sometimes, she’s our age, and she loves movies and engineering and memes,” explained Peter. “And pulling pranks. They’re hilarious, we team up all the time. One time we emptied a Pinesol container and filled it with apple juice and I chugged it during lunch. It was hilarious.” 

Mr. Stark scoffed. “It was terrifying, is what it was. Nearly gave everyone heart failure.” 

You took a seat in a nearby wheelie chair. “So you just casually know all the Avengers and Wakandan royalty?” you directed the question to Peter as you rolled over to your table with your project.

“Yeah, want me to tell you about them?” he asked, grabbing something from the minifridge in the corner. “Juice box?”

“Sure.” He tossed the object across the room and you fumbled to catch it as he stuck a straw in his own. “Tell me about the first time you met them.” 

He took a long drink from his juice box until there was an empty sucking sound. “That’s confidential.” 

“Woooow.” The first thing you asked and that was the response? “Okay, the first thing that comes to mind that isn’t confidential then.” 

“Okay… Miss Romanoff has travelled to ninety eight countries,” he began. “But Mr. Hawkeye has only been to ninety five. And he knows four types of sign language and sixteen spoken languages.” 

“According to Natasha, he’s asked someone to pet their dog in nearly all of them,” added Mr. Stark. 

The afternoon passed slowly after that, with you and Peter much more invested in talking about all the team members than actually working on the projects. Until he got hungry, that was. 

“I’m gonna go make something to eat, do you want anything?” 

You quickly checked the time. “It’s almost five… I’m not really hungry, yet, but if you wanna grab something, I’ll finish this and be up in a minute.” 

Peter agreed and set his tools down. He hadn’t really been doing anything with them to start with. 

It was your first time alone in the lab with Mr. Stark, and it started off silently but for the sounds of engineering. You would have been perfectly comfortable if it stayed that way.

“So, Ace,” said Mr. Stark. “How are you?” 

You glanced up at him before continuing what you were doing, although much slower. It was difficult trying to pay attention to him while trying to pay just as much attention to the piece in your hand. “I’m alright, thanks. How about you?”

“I’m good, I’m good.” Okay then… “Are you planning to stay for dinner?”

You narrowed your eyes at the electric resistors sitting innocently in front of you. “Um, no?” Was there a proper answer to that? And did you need to finish the circuitry right at this moment? Did you really?

“Oh. That’s a shame, it’s only a couple hours from now. You sure you can’t stay?”

Nope. You were definitely done and did not need to finish anything. “Yeah, sorry. Thanks for inviting me, but I’ve got work later tonight so I really can’t. Um, if that’s all, I’m done with what I was doing so…” 

“Oh, no, I was just curious. I’ll be up in a bit, I’ve got some more work down here.” He gestured to the bow in front of him. “You ahead and go on up.” 

_ That’s totally not weird. No, really _ , you tried to convince yourself,  _ he just wanted to know how long I’d be staying. It’s not weird. _ “Um, okay, see you in a bit I guess…”

Peter was still making food when you entered the kitchen. A stack of grilled cheese sandwiches rested on a plate beside him, looking dangerously close to toppling over. 

Peter was in the process of making another and he glanced back to face you. “I hope you don’t mind grilled cheese.” 

You kept far enough back that you wouldn’t get in his way. “It’s fine, but-” You rushed to catch the swaying stack. You returned Peter’s grateful smile. “- this is kind of a lot, isn’t it?” 

He grabbed another plate and took some of the stack down. “It’s a rule, the first person to make food has to make some for everyone, especially if you’re cooking in the team kitchen.” 

Well, that explained why Peter was cooking enough to feed a small army. “Would you like some help?” 

“Nah, it’s fine, it’s just grilled cheese,” he brushed off, turning back to the stove and the sandwiches currently on the griddle. 

“Maybe something to go with it, then?” You hesitated by the fridge, unsure if you were allowed to open it. “Like a salad or something?” 

Peter shrugged. “You can see what’s in there. I don’t know if anyone went grocery shopping recently, though, so there might not be much.” 

You opened the fridge to check, determined not to snoop too much. You quickly retrieved some berries, grapes, and a few apples that had caught your eye. You also took a few plums. Hopefully they wouldn’t be missed. 

Peter’s eyes scanned your bounty. “Mrs. Potts is allergic to strawberries,” he informed you as you grabbed the box to wash them. 

“Oh, yeah. Maybe we can just put them on the side then?” you suggested. “Why have them if she’s allergic?” 

“Sam and Natasha really like them,” he answered, flipping a sandwich expertly. 

You hummed in acknowledgement and washed off the rest of the fruits before setting them on the counter. You spotted the knives in a block in the corner but… “Where are the cutting boards?” 

FRIDAY was the one to answer, making you jump slightly. “In the drawer under the knives. The other one, on the left.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” you said, retrieving a moderately sized board with an apple symbol in the corner. “Any chance you know where I could find a serving bowl?”

“You’re welcome, Miss. The serving bowls are in the cabinet on top.” 

You opened the cabinet and found the object you were seeking on the top shelf. Your fingers could barely reach it when you were on your tippy toes. When you jumped to try and get it, you only succeeded in pushing it further back. “No,” you whined, trying again. Peter started snickering behind you. “Quit laughing, it’s not my fault I’m short!” 

“I didn’t say it was!” 

You crossed your arms petulantly. “You’re laughing at me because I can’t reach the bowl.” 

“It’s funny!” 

“It’s not!” 

He laughed some more and got it for you easily. When you moved to take it from him, however, he pulled it out of your reach. 

You placed your hands on your hips. “Oh, come on.” 

“If you want it you’ll have to get it.” 

“Peterrrr,” you pleaded, reaching for the object. He took a step back, forcing you to take one forward. “Give it baaaack.” 

“Technically, you never had it,” he pointed out wittily. “Can’t get back what you never had.”

You jumped to try and get it, but he moved it to the other hand at the last second. “Come on, won’t the sandwiches burn?” you tried, jumping again. 

Unfortunately, when you landed, you lost your balance. In an effort not to fall into Peter, you reached for the counter behind him… only to realize that Peter had been in front of the stove. 

“Ow,” you yelped. You clutched your dominant hand with a pained hiss as Peter quickly set the bowl on the counter. “Shit.” 

“Oh, geez, are you okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have tried messing around while the stove is on. Are you alright? I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” 

You inspected your hand and shook out some of the pain as you made your way to the sink. The pads of your first three fingers were burned, as was the tip of your pinky, but not badly. “Damn. I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a burn, no big deal,” you grimaced as water rushed over your injuries. “Happens all the time. Speaking of which, don’t let any of those sandwiches char.” 

Peter started rambling apologies again as he removed the finished sandwiches and you interrupted him calmly. “Peter, it’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known I’d get burned. Seriously, I’ve had worse. One time I burned my arm on the coffee maker because I didn’t realize how close I was to it. Another time I was so excited to grab cookies I forgot my oven mitt. I was  _ fourteen _ .” You laughed and shut off the water. “Hey, FRIDAY, is there a first aid kit in here?” 

“Under the sink, Miss y/n.” 

You pulled out the box and set it on the counter, away from the food. 

“Is there any way I could help?” asked Peter. “My Aunt May’s a nurse, she taught me a lot of first aid.” 

You smiled at how sweet he was and decided to accept the offer. Even though it meant he’d have to be close to you. “Uh, yeah, actually. I’m [right/left] handed so it’d be nice of you if you could help instead of me having to fumble with everything.” 

“Yeah, sure!” Peter turned off the stove quickly and came to help you out. 

Which was how most of the team found you a few moments later. Natasha was the first. 

“I burned my hand while we were making sandwiches,” you informed her as Clint entered. “Peter had a bowl I wanted and I didn’t realize the stove was behind him, so when I tripped and caught my balance, my hand landed on the stove.”

“Yikes, you okay there?” the archer questioned sympathetically. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You gave them the same stories you told Peter, and repeated the situation again for Steve and James, who walked in as a pair. You told the story one more time for Tony and Pepper, before exasperatedly stating “if I have to explain this one more time…” 

“Explain what?” asked Sam. 

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed frustratedly as Peter finished up. “Does fate exist only to spite me?” 

The rest of the group laughed and Pepper was kind enough to explain for you. 

“So what was the bowl for?” wondered James. 

You turned to Peter. “Well, since Peter was busy making sandwiches, I thought I’d make something to go with. So, the plan was to make fruit salad for everyone. But apparently he wasn’t as busy as I thought since he tried playing keep-away with me.” 

“I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he said again. “Really sorry.” 

“I know,” you accepted. “It’s fine. But now I can’t make a fruit salad that specifically has no strawberries because Mrs. Potts is allergic.” 

Mrs. Potts turned to her husband. “Even y/n remembered.” 

“It was one time,” he defended. “I got you strawberries as an apology  _ one time _ and you will never let me forget it.” 

“No, I will not,” said Mrs. Potts, taking a sandwich from off a plate before setting the rest onto the table. Mr. Stark followed with the other two and called you and Peter to join everyone at the table. You sat hesitantly in the seat beside Peter and gave Natasha a smile as she took the spot beside you. 

As per usual, the conversation was easygoing. You didn’t have many questions thrown your way, but you did find out some interesting information after Clint wondered what you were doing in the lab so often. 

Peter, always eager to talk, explained for you both. “We’re building a model of a flying car.”

You backed his statement up with another detail. “Howard Stark’s first big demo at the World Expo of Tomorrow.” 

“You know, I think I remember that,” said James. 

“Really?” asked Steve. He wore a wide grin, eyes bright with excitement.

“Yeah. My last night before I got shipped out. It was  _ supposed  _ to be a double date, but  _ someone  _ had to run off to the enlistment center,” James said accusingly, tossing his arm over Steve’s shoulders. “After being denied five times.”

“But it worked. And look, I’m here today,” he justified. 

“Yeah, after nearly getting arrested for lying on your enlistment papers.”

A new realization came to mind. “Mrs. Potts are you the only one at this table who hasn’t broken several laws to become who you are today?” 

“You realize that implies you and Peter have broken several laws, right?” Mr. Stark butted in with a smirk. “Have anything you want to share?” 

“Nope,” you said. “I don’t get away with anything, my father’s pretty strict. I even turned down the offer of a free irish coffee.” You shared a smile with James before looking down at your sandwich. “Although I am the reason they amended the student hand book in the middle of the year.” You quickly occupied your mouth with a bite of food.

Peter slammed his hand on the table, causing you to jump nearly a foot and almost choke. “That was  _ you _ ? Everyone was talking about it for weeks, not even MJ could figure it out.” 

“Peter!” scolded Tony as you coughed. You waved off a few worried looks. “What have I said about doing that?” 

“Not to,” he answered bashfully. “Sorry. Seriously though.” 

You shrugged slowly and shifted slightly closer to Natasha. She was far less likely to react so… explosively. “It was neither illegal nor against the rules - at the time. Besides, contracts signed by minors aren’t legally binding, anyways. It was purely educational and it didn’t even do what I wanted so it doesn’t matter.” 

Clint was watching the discussion like it was a tennis match. “But what was it?” 

You focused on your sandwich once more as Peter began his story.

“Well, no one really knew what happened until the new handbook was released, but there was a day that the school data system blacked out. Teachers had to keep attendance on paper for the rest of the day, no one could access  _ any  _ of their school stuff, grades couldn’t be submitted. It was a bit chaotic. Two weeks later there’s a rule in the handbook that basically says students aren’t allowed to hack into the school for any reason, including to test out a program they had made in class. Apparently  _ all  _ the teachers knew about it, but everyone else was trying to find out who the student was since no one had been expelled or suspended.” 

“Of course not,” huffed Tony. “You can’t get in trouble for something that wasn’t against the rules. So how’d they find out, Ace? Did you sell yourself out?” 

You shook your head. “IP address. The computer belongs to the school and my teacher pointed me out as the one who normally sat there.”

There were a couple versions of “that’s a shame” from around the table and you gave an apologetic smile. Tony and James were quick to start a conversation about all the loopholes they had gone through after that and you finished off your sandwich.

You inspected your bandaged hand and realized you’d be no use in the lab. Meaning the project would need to be put on hold or finished by Peter. You voiced as much to him quietly, and he’d promised he would finish it. 

“I should go then,” you said quietly, and then louder you added “I’ve got some stuff to do at home, and then I’ve got work after.”

“I’ll walk you out,” offered Peter. 

"That'd be nice," you replied. You said your goodbyes to everyone else, retrieved your things from Mr. Stark’s lab, and walked comfortably with Peter until you reached the exit. 

“Um, you know you could still come over, if you want?” he offered. “After the project is done. Maybe for movie night or something?” 

“Does that something involve more food?” you joked. 

“It can if you want it to,” he answered, a hopeful smile on his face.

Your face brightened a bit. “Just text me a few days ahead, we’ll see what works out.” 

“Yeah, I’ll see you in class. Have a good day. And I’m sorry I burned you, I hope it gets better soon.” 

“Thanks, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Hope you have a good day, too.” 

You spun on your heel quickly, determined not to make a fool of yourself by staring at him for too long. You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to memorize his smile as you grinned from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fate exists only to spite me” is literally one of my favorite things to say. XD I use it in every available situation. And the Pinesol thing? My sister actually almost drank Pinesol once when she was 16, because she had thought it was apple juice before my mom said “where’s the pinesol” and that’s the inspo for the prank mentioned.
> 
> Wow, LONG chapter here. Took me like 5 min to select it all to copy/paste. Did you enjoy it? I hope it wasn’t too much. This actually started at 3 pages, now it's 11. I usually go for at least 7 unless I want a short scene, those are usually only 4 pages. I don’t pay too much attention to the page count until after I’m done writing, though. Anyways, Reader shared a little story, so that was fun. And a cute lil Peter scene :) or two. Or like a whole chapter’s worth of Peter being Peter.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you're exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Casually checks my stats while drinking water* *chokes* 800 kudos? That many of you?! Since WHEN? Thank you all so much, I’m so happy you’re all enjoying :) 
> 
> I might start posting two chapters for some of these updates because writing (and escapism in general) is my Coping Mechanism and I've got a lot to give you all so… that's your warning I guess, since the last time I posted two chapters people missed the first one (chapter 23 and 24 were posted together and chapter 23 was fairly important so yeah ❤)
> 
> This chapter is written partially from experience (high school freshman me STRUGGLED) and 0 of 10 recommend!! Zero!! Recommend what, you may ask? Sleeping for less than 3 hours a night for more than two days straight…. Why? Well… you’ll find out.

The nights following your previous visit to the tower had passed in a haze of extensive studying for the upcoming finals, late work hours, and minimal interaction with your father (who had taken to ignoring your presence outside of meal times, for the most part). 

As exhausted as you were, you still arrived at the tower at 10 a.m. with coffee for Steve and James. You would be spending as much of the day as possible with Peter, rehearsing for the project due that Tuesday and studying for calculus and physics together. Peter wasn’t able to make it the day before due to some sort of meeting in Norway, which he had apparently also gone to the week before while you were with Pepper. You tried to remember why Norway would be important, but you were far too tired for that. 

You entered the main lounge with a mumbled “g'morning” and handed Steve and James each their cups before taking your own mug of black coffee. Today's mug read  _ I don’t rise and shine, I caffeinate and hope for the best _ , and you specifically chose it because you felt as though you had more coffee than blood in you at the moment. You recycled the paper tray in the kitchen.

Steve standing near the breakfast bar when you turned back around. You blinked slowly in an effort to process his appearance. 

"Hey there, Angel," he said softly. "You alright? You seem quieter than usual." 

"I keep saying I’m not an angel." You plastered on a weak smile. He had insisted on the nickname ever since Memorial Day. "Just tired. It's finals week and I've been staying up studying. Which is why I'm here, Peter and I are gonna practice the presentation of our project and then study for the physics class we have together. No big deal." 

He eyed your mug and you slid your hand over the phrase, even though you were certain he had already seen it. You didn't even know why, it wasn’t like it was half as vulgar as the one you had last Sunday ( _ I don't spew profanities, I enunciate them like a fucking lady _ ), and he'd barely made a comment at that. "When was the last time you slept?" 

Was that what he came in for? "Don't worry about it," you dismissed. "I'll be fine." 

"You know caffeine can't substitute sleep, right?" 

"Please don't give me a Captain America lecture right now," you implored. "Peter is probably waiting down in the lab and I really need to get a good grade in this class." 

"I'm just concerned. We care for each other here, and that includes you now, you know?" The honesty in his voice almost hurt.

"I…" _did not know that, and now I don't know what to say._ "Don't. Ah, don’t be concerned, that is." _Or care._ _No one else is._ Was that the lack of sleep talking? Probably. "I've done this before, I'll be fine."

"That doesn't make things any better. How much sleep did you get last night?" 

Did you even sleep last night? You remembered waking up sometime around eight to get ready, so logically you must've. Just thinking about it made you tired. "I slept," you told him shortly, taking a sip from your drink; a classic red eye. It wasn't the greatest but it'd get you through the day. "Please stop asking about it." 

He gave you a look of disappointment and you took his silence as a cue to leave. Down in the lab, you met up with Peter and ran through your project a few times. He was mentioning the flying cars and historical significance of Stark Industries. Afterwards, your job was to discuss the modern impact and what the company was like today, as well as what a newer model of the car would look like. 

You practiced a few times before presenting it to Mr. Stark, who deemed it “a great team effort.” You set the project aside for more rehearsal later. 

You were immensely grateful when Peter offered to bring down lunch as you studied for physics. You took the time he was gone to rest your head against the table. 

You had nearly fallen asleep when you heard “Ace, you doing alright over there?” 

You gave an affirmative hum and picked your head up to rest against your hand. “It’s been a long week for me.” 

“Take it from someone with experience, this is probably on the top ten worst places to sleep,” Mr. Stark commented. “Top five if you’re holding something electric. Anyways, I’m sure Peter would understand if you wanted to go home.” 

You shook your head. You would much rather just fall asleep there than at home, where your father could walk in at any moment. A yawn escaped you. “I just want finals to be over, honestly.” 

“Up all night studying?” 

“Something like that.” Studying, working, staying out of the way of your father and trying to clean so you could spend the day at the tower.

Peter came down with sandwiches for everyone. You took one to nibble on, but your appetite was lacking and you ended up pushing it aside. The physics packet you were working on seemed to drag on forever. Every once in a while you compared with Peter, who was working at a similar rate to your own. You weren’t sure if he’d gotten better or you were just slow. 

“Why don’t we take a break?” Peter proposed after nearly an hour of physics work. “We’ve done a lot for one day. Hey, maybe we should see if the cars can go up the stairs!” 

That had you shooting awake. “No, that’s not a good- Peter, no!” Peter was already zooming the updated car model out the door to the stairs at full speed. You rushed out to follow him dizzily. It was evident you had stood too quickly black spots came around the edges of your vision, but you ignored it. “Peter! The car is barely charged!” You had changed the battery as per Mr. Stark’s suggestion to make the device last longer, and it was now rechargeable. “How the hell are you so fast?” you gasped.

“It works! Come on, let’s show it to the team.” His voice echoed around you as you clambered up the stairs after him. 

You managed to keep up with him enough to see what door he exited for and followed through. You stumbled a bit as the door closed behind you, huffing from the exertion. The last thing you saw was Peter turning around as you pitched forward. 

* * *

Peter’s spider-sense was going crazy as he ran up the staircase, and he took it to mean that y/n was following close behind him. He managed to slow down the car so it didn’t slam into the door of the main level before he opened it, and he expected y/n to follow right behind. As he got further away, however, the sense of doom got worse. 

“Y/n?” he spun around to see her stumble for a few steps before swaying dangerously, and he suddenly understood why his spider-sense was going crazy. “y/n!” 

He caught her and gave her a little shake “Y/n?” 

“Peter?” He could hear footsteps approaching and gave y/n another shake as Steve and Bucky rounded the corner. “Woah, woah, hey, what happened?” 

“I don’t know,” Peter rushed out. “I thought it’d be fun to show everyone the flying car model we had made, since we haven’t yet and we needed a break from studying. But then my spider-sense went crazy, and I thought it was because she was chasing me up the stairs but I turned around and she just passed out!” 

“Okay, take a deep breath,” ordered Steve. “You need to calm down. She probably just passed out from exhaustion.” He shared a look with Bucky, with whom he’d shared the conversation from that morning. “Just lay her down for a minute. Did she eat anything earlier? Drink any water?” He went to kneel at y/n’s side, opposite of Peter.

“Like half a sandwich, maybe. Um, I don’t know about water. She had a mug but I’m not sure what was in it.” 

“Coffee, most likely,” informed James. “I’ll get her something for when she gets up.” 

From her space on the floor, y/n let out a quiet groan and shifted. 

“Y/n?” Her eyes blinked open and she moved a hand to shade them from the light above her face. “FRIDAY, dim the lights.” 

“Steve? What- why am I on the floor?” She moved to get up, but Steve set a firm hand on her shoulder. 

“You are going to lie down for at least five minutes,” he ordered. 

“I’m gonna fall asleep if I lie down for five minutes,” she grumbled, tossing an arm over her eyes.

Steve couldn’t help but sass her back. “You know what? Maybe that’s not a bad idea considering you probably scared Peter half to death when you passed out.” And Steve himself, but at least he had an idea of  _ why  _ y/n passed out.

“’m fine,” she mumbled. “Sorry, Peter.” 

Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Apology accepted.” 

She rubbed her eyes for a bit before glancing at her hands. “Shoot. Makeup,” she realized. Steve’s eyes focused on the dark spot that had been revealed on her cheekbone. Definitely a bruise. 

“Peter why don’t you go back down and see if Tony needs help with anything?” suggested Steve. “I’ll make sure that y/n’s alright.” 

“I’m fine!” she protested, moving to get up once more. Steve put a firm hand on her shoulder again.

He had very little patience left when it came to those two words. “If I hear one more variation of that...” She flinched away from him and Steve felt the guilt drop onto his shoulders. Vague threats weren’t the way to go about things. "I will force you to sit through a two hour Captain America lecture on taking care of yourself. If I don’t have a script for it, I’ll write one myself,” he added. 

Peter exited with a reluctant “I guess I’ll see you later or something.”

Steve waited a few minutes to make sure Peter was gone. “You still awake there?” 

“Yes. This floor is freezing; can I please get up now?” 

“Slowly,” he allowed. He helped her sit up before slipping off his sweater and settling it over her shoulders. 

* * *

You jumped at the unexpected weight before realizing Steve had just given you his sweater. “Thanks,” you muttered. You pulled it around yourself like a blanket. The floor had actually been very cold, and your summer-y blouse didn’t provide any warmth. 

Steve was giving you another disappointed look and you kept your eyes downcast. “Look at me, please.” You took a deep breath and glanced up before shifting your vision just to just above him. He wasn’t fooled. “Y/n.” He moved to meet your eyes. “You told me no fewer than three times this morning not to worry about you.” 

You broke eye contact. “You shouldn’t, I’m fine.”

“Passing out is not fine.” 

He had a point there. You hid further into his sweater just as James came by with a bottle or vitamin water in hand. “Glad to see you awake, y/n. There’s lunch waiting at the table for you, I didn’t think you’d want to eat on the floor.” 

“I had lunch earlier,” you mumbled. You accepted the bottle but didn’t open it. 

Steve frowned. “Just like how you ‘slept’ last night?” 

You shrugged and rose, sliding away from Steve so you could balance against a wall. “I did. I slept last night and I had a sandwich for lunch.”

“You’re eating and then you’re taking a nap.” You wondered if his stern tone was his Captain voice, but took offense at the command. It’s not like you were five.

Regardless, you knew not to talk back to authority with a tone like that. “I’m fine, sir. I should probably just go home. Sorry for the trouble.” You held out Steve’s sweater for him to take. 

He didn’t. “That’s a two hour lecture.” 

You tilted your head slightly. “What?” 

“I told you that if I hear the words ‘I’m fine’ one more time I’d give you a two hour lecture. You’ve said it twice now, I let it go the first time.” 

What the hell? He was serious about that? Who was he to be giving you lectures? Well, other than Captain America. What type of right did he think he had?

Steve continued on like this was normal. “You were planning on spending the whole day here, so I know you have time to lie down and take a nap.”

“I- I’ll take a nap at home, sir,” you bartered, sweater still held out to him. 

James was the one to counter you that time. “You look like you’re going to pass out for a second time, I doubt you’d make it home safely.” 

You shifted your stance but you couldn’t think of anything to say. He might have a point there. Not that sleeping during the day was at all safe at home even if you did make it.

“Put the sweater on and come eat.” Steve left after the direction, presumably to the kitchen. 

There was a moment that you and James just stood there before you pulled on the sweater and followed Steve at a distance. While you weren’t happy with having been ordered to put it on, you enjoyed the coziness of the oversized garment and the way that it covered you. You even tugged up the hood. 

At the table, there was a plate of chicken salad, and in the kitchen, Steve was fixing something up for himself. You picked your way through the salad wordlessly. It had never been this tense between the three of you before, and now that it was, you reverted to what you knew best: stay silent and placate the adults however you could. Wait for the storm to blow over. 

You pulled up the hood of the sweater just a bit after you finished, waiting to be dismissed. 

“Is that bruise on your face hurting you at all?” asked Steve. 

“What-” You froze for only a second before realizing that if he saw it, there was no use playing dumb. You slinked down in your seat. “No, sir.”

“Have you had headaches or anything like that recently? Unusual sensitivity to light or sound?” 

You were careful of your tone as you replied “I know the symptoms of a concussion, sir, I don’t have one.” 

You stared away as he made eye contact with you. “Are we going to talk about how you got it?” 

You pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over your hands. “I’d rather not, sir.” You thought of a quick lie in case he wanted to though. You had been standing behind a door as someone opened it. That should work.

More silence.

James was the one to break it that time, and you weren’t sure if you preferred it that way or not. He wasn’t stern, but you imagined that he could’ve been if he wanted to. “Clint told us about your room.” You didn’t know what to say about that, so you merely glanced up to show you were listening. He must’ve understood because he kept speaking as you played with the hoodie sleeves. “You could sleep in there or take a nap on a couch if you want. No one would bother you.” 

“I’d rather stay in the room across Peter’s, sir.”

“Alright.” You took that to mean you were dismissed. James followed behind you, probably to make sure you didn’t wander off. 

“Y/n,” he said as you neared your door. You stopped in your tracks and turned around respectfully. “We aren’t mad at you, okay? But you scared us. You came in this morning and we figured the last few days might not have been the greatest, or that you’re stressed for exams. We tried not to worry, really. Then, the next time we see you, you’re out cold on the floor. Steve was telling you the truth earlier, we care for you.”

It was probably easy for them to say that. They barely knew you. “I’m sorry for worrying you both, sir. And Peter.” 

“I wasn’t asking for an apology. I just want you to know that we’re here for you if you ever need us, okay?” 

You didn’t trust your voice so you merely nodded and went to the borrowed room, shutting the door behind you. You stopped first in the bathroom to see how badly your makeup was ruined. Most of it was smudged and you decided it’d be best to just wash the rest off. Although you didn’t really want to snoop, you decided it’d be best to check if there was any makeup remover around. Luckily, there were a few wipes in the nearest drawer, so your search had ended there. You spent a more time looking for a trash can before rinsing the residue from the wipe off. 

With the absence of concealer, your dark under eyes were prominent and the full extent of the bruise looked a lot worse than it had before. The makeup was gone, though, and you hadn’t brought any with you so there was nothing to be done about it. 

You flopped onto the bed and eyed the closet, but it still didn’t feel like any of those belonging were actually yours. And neither was the sweater you had on, which you slipped off and laid on the bed. You barely had the energy to get under the covers, you didn’t want to think about walking over to the closet. 

The clock in front of you reminded you of your curfew. “FRIDAY, could you make sure I’m up before six?” 

“Certainly, Miss.” 

The bed was too comfortable. You fell asleep before you could say thank you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, did you guys not know I really like whump fics? Oops.
> 
> This EXTREMELY early chapter comes directly after a receiving an awful (as in actually awful, like a D) on my Stats exam because I would rather not sulk about that right now. So I'm posting at 8:30 P.M instead of Midnight or some semi-normal time. what fun :)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve fears for his life.   
> Also, in which you have a nightmare.   
> Mild TW: PTSD induced dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words are hard because I have a migraine. 
> 
> Here's an author's note I wrote earlier this week tho:  
> A haha, there’s a pt. 2! I’m like, screaming at everyone’s comments because you’re all screaming in the comments XD You all enjoyed that last chapter way more than I expected. I've also seen a love for Clint in The Vents. You know what I love more? Clint making hearing jokes. I know someone commented about how Deaf!Clint doesn’t get mentioned enough and I just love the idea of him making jokes constantly, so he gets to make one.

Bucky returned to the kitchen after the door had shut behind y/n. Poor kid looked about ready to start crying. He hoped he hadn’t made the wrong choice to say something like that. Had he gone a little overboard with it? He was certainly honest when he told her that they cared. When they heard Peter shout y/n’s name, they had barely exchanged a look before running to the teenagers. Was she just more emotional because she was tired? Or was there something more to it?

When Bucky reentered, he had to take a few minutes to think of where to start.“When did she start calling us sir?” 

“I don’t know, I think it was around when she said she wanted to go home, but it… that was just…” Steve ran a hand through his hair as he struggled for words. 

“She didn’t seem like herself.” 

Steve shook his head. That part was obvious to anyone with eyes. “She wasn’t herself all day, she was tired, that’s to be expected. I never- The way she just shut us out, I’ve never seen that. She looked terrified.” 

Natasha and Clint basically materialized from nowhere. From the looks of it, they had just finished a training session, but their arrival was no less of a surprise. 

“There are only three people in this general vicinity who go by she/her, and I  _ know  _ you’re not talking about me or Pepper. What did you do to y/n?” 

Natasha was eerily calm and Steve began to fear for his life, which was not something he did often. “Nothing! We gave her lunch and told her to take a nap.” 

“Did I hear that right?” asked Clint as he cracked open a water bottle. “You told her to take a nap?”

“After she passed out from exhaustion,” tacked on Bucky. “She was studying for exams and wasn’t taking care of herself.”

Natasha remained unmoved. “You said she was terrified, why?” 

“I don’t-” If Steve completed that, he would’ve been lying. “I may have been a bit stern with her.” 

“Rogers.” 

Oh, he was definitely in trouble. “That’s all it was, she might’ve misinterpreted it is all. I swear that we didn’t hurt her in any way.” 

“Where is she now?” 

“In her room.  _ Hopefully  _ asleep,” Bucky answered, sending a warning look to the assassin in front of him. “We weren’t trying to do anything to her, Romanoff. She looked dead on her feet already.” 

His response satisfied her enough to stop grilling them about it. 

“So, how’d y/n react to being sent to her room like a little kid?” asked Clint. 

“We didn’t send her to her room,” said Steve. “It’s not like we’re her parents. She chose to sleep there.”

“Instead of going home?” asked Natasha. 

“That wasn’t the other option. She could sleep in her room or on a couch,” Bucky answered. 

Clint’s face was neutral as he clarified “So she didn’t ask to go home?” 

“She did,” said Steve. “But it would’ve been irresponsible to let her.” 

The conversation ended with that and the heroes split up to complete their typical activities around the tower. 

* * *

_ It was dark, there was a song playing on the car radio. Something new and catchy. Who showed you it? You couldn’t remember. _

_ “I love this song,” said your mom from the driver’s seat. She turned it up and you both began singing.  _

_ But something about it all was wrong. That song hadn’t come out until you were older. “Mom. Mom, something is wrong.”  _

_ “What was that y/n/n?” She turned to face you. “Did you say something?”  _

_ No. No no no, this is where it all went wrong. “Mom no, look at the road!” The light was bright and- What was that sound? That wasn’t how a crash sounded. _

Your eyes snapped open. You panted heavily as you tossed off your covers- but they weren’t your covers. You looked around frantically as the windows slowly became brighter, illuminating the purple bedding and dark wood furniture. You had fallen asleep at the tower. The day's events came back to you as you rushed to the bathroom and proceeded to lose your lunch. The alarm had stopped on its own.

You massaged your aching collarbone as you sat back on the tiles. That was a harsh reminder of why you never slept anywhere remotely cold.

“Are you alright, Miss y/n?” 

“It’d be  _ really, really creepy...  _ if there were cameras in here,” you panted. 

“There aren’t any, Miss. I’m connected to the speakers and a microphone if you ever wish to play music. Are you alright?”

You rose from the ground shakily. “I’m fine. I’m fine, thanks. Bad dream.” You took a few deep breaths. That’s all it was. A bad dream. “What time is it?” 

“Five thirty-seven in the evening, Miss.” 

You got up to rinse your mouth of the taste of bile. “When did I fall asleep?” 

“Around two fifteen this afternoon.” 

You had been out for around three hours then. You splashed some water on your face. The bags under your eyes had barely improved, you noticed, but barely was better than not at all. Still, you had no makeup, so you could do nothing more than accept it. 

You made your way to the bedroom. The sheets were a mess and you stopped to fix them before you left. You hoped you’d be allowed to leave, at least. You picked Steve’s sweater up and folded it neatly. You’d have to return it to him, or at least leave it somewhere that he could find it.

You took one last glance around the room to make sure everything was in place. Your eyes snapped back to the desk. Your backpack rested at the foot of it, but you thought you had left it in the lab. You certainly didn’t remember putting it there. “Hey FRIDAY, do you know who brought my thing up?” 

“Agent Romanoff.” 

Huh. That was nice of her. You supposed everyone else must’ve known about the afternoon’s events now, though, and that was pretty embarrassing. You shuffled out of your room and silently shut the door. 

Your goal was to reach the elevator without anyone noticing… but you had to pass the main living area to do so. And with their experience and your lack thereof, you were caught. James set down the book he was writing in when he caught sight of you and you ducked your head. 

“Hi, Doll. Feeling better?” he asked as Steve turned back. 

You nodded and approached them, holding the sweater out for Steve. He had gotten a new one during your nap, but the sweater was still his. “Thank you for letting me borrow this.” 

He took it this time. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Mhm. Uh, do either of you know if Peter’s around? Because I was thinking of going home.” 

“He went out for a bit. He probably won’t be back before dinner, but if you want to stay-” James stopped when you shook your head. 

“My father wants me home for dinner,” you explained.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah. Um, I’m sorry for worrying you both.” 

Steve released a long breath. “Just take care of yourself. Please?” he requested. “We’re here for you anytime you need us.  _ Any  _ of us. Especially if there’s anyone bothering you.” He tapped his cheek as if you might need a reminder of the bruise on your own. 

You nodded to show him you had understood. Even though you definitely wouldn’t sic the two supersoldiers on your dad. That would cause too many problems to count. “Are- are you guys busy next Sunday?” 

Either he was starting to express himself more around you or you were getting better reading him, because a smile made its way across James’ face. “Four thirty at the cafe?” he put forward. 

You nodded once more. “See you then. Have a good week.” 

“You too, doll, good luck with exams.” 

You thanked them and made your way to the elevator. It felt weird, after all the times Peter had walked you out, to be alone. So you sent him a text.  _ Sorry about how things turned out.  _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Don’t worry about it! Are you feeling better? Ms. Romanoff said you took a nap in your room. _

**_You:_ ** _ yeah, omw home now. Just left the tower. Would’ve said bye but you weren’t around so… Sorry _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ It’s alright, really. We got everything we needed to get done finished :) Also, I put the cars to charge so they’re good to go on Tuesday.  _

**_You:_ ** _ Thank you  _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ no problem :):)  _

The route from the tower to your apartment was simple and you were home earlier than you needed to be. You made dinner and left a plate on the table for the Lieutenant with a note that you weren’t feeling well and had gone to bed early. Hopefully he wouldn’t bring it up later. 

With the exception of one hit you had received after getting home late on Thursday, things were getting better. You weren’t sure what had happened at the dinner to improve his mood, or how long things would last this time, but you weren’t going to waste energy worrying about it. Mostly because you didn’t have any energy to waste, especially after you had changed into pajamas and slipped into your bed, ready to catch up on sleep before the rest of your week started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, I brought my Stats grade up and my other 3 grades plummeted XD we're okay though... Sorta. Not really thriving, but still surviving


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which people ask too many questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MULTI-CHAPTER UPDATE! this is the SECOND posted chapter.

“Does anyone have any questions?” you asked at the end of the project.

“Yeah, can we take turns with the cars?” asked a boy sitting near the back. You were pretty sure his name was Charlie. 

Mr. Dell answered the question before you and Peter got the chance. “No. There are only a few minutes of class left and not everyone would get a turn. Anything else?” 

A few hands went up and Peter called on each one. 

When the inevitable “did you meet the avengers?” got asked, Peter mentioned that he already knew them through his internship and the class turned to you. 

“Um, we got introduced, yeah,” you shrugged. If they were so chill about Peter then they’d be the same towards you, right? Wrong. The volume in the class rose instantly. 

Mr. Dell’s calls for order were futile, especially when the bell rang. You and Peter grabbed your things from your desks and parted ways, expecting to see each other again in physics. 

You hadn’t been expecting for people to start bombarding you with questions as you left for mechanics. You were sure you’d never been more popular and you hated it. 

“Hey y/n, heard you met the Avengers! What were they like? Are any of them in relationships? Is the Black Widow really just friends with all of them?” asked a girl you didn’t know. She had a friend following beside her.

“What are they-? They were- They were fine, pretty normal, I guess. That’s um, a little personal, don’t you think?” 

“But are they?” pressured her friend. “Come on, we wouldn’t tell anyone.” 

Bullshit. They would tell everyone. You shouldered past them. “I have to get to class.” 

During class it wasn’t half as bad, but it was a review period and word spread like wildfire. Luckily, it was a more structured class and many of the students there needed to pass the class to move on to the next in the sequence. Anna had also proven herself to be a blessing: any time people began to ask questions, she would immediately mention how she had once met Sam during a morning run or that she was in the middle of her story. By the end of the class, she had repeated the tale no less than five times, but you didn’t mind. It was a pretty interesting story. The boys had stopped bothering to ask. 

Unfortunately, the people in the rest of the school didn’t get the same treatment, and lunch felt like hell. Your excuse of class had fallen flat as everyone kept asking you to “take a break from studying.” You hadn’t even managed to get to the library. Even worse: Flash had gotten ahold of the story. 

“Hey, y/n!” he shouted as you made your way to physics. You walked faster, but he had caught up. “Y/n. Heard you were at Avengers Tower.”

“So has everyone else.”

Flash grabbed your wrist to stop you from leaving. “Everyone?” He leaned in to whisper “Has your dad?” The smirk on his face was nothing short of sinister when he pulled back to see your reaction. “Thought so.” 

“Leave her alone, Flash. How haven’t you been written up for harassment?” intervened MJ. “You bother her all the time. We all know she isn’t going out with you, ever.” 

Flash let you go. “My place. Friday,” his loud announcement wasn’t unusual; word had been going around for a few days. Upperclassmen only, first 300 unless you had a card- which you unfortunately did. You took his words as the threat that they were and let MJ pull you away. 

“I don’t know what he said but it probably isn’t worth paying attention to. You have physics next, right? With Ned and Peter?” 

“Yeah.”

“Great.” 

She didn’t ask any questions, but since you weren’t talking, people took it to mean you were available for conversation. 

You must’ve said no 100 times in three minutes you had to get to class; no, you didn’t know who Spider-Man was; no, you wouldn’t guess; no, you weren't going to gossip about the Avengers; and no, you didn’t want to be someone’s new best friend. Why did people even think the last one would work? This was high school, not kindergarten. 

MJ seemed to be as tired of it as you were because she shouted “Peter’s been working there for two years and you all left him alone! He probably knows more than her, and none of you treated him like this.”

That caused plenty of angry outbursts from around the hall. MJ took your hand in hers and pulled you towards your class, even going so far as to walk in with you. 

“MJ?” asked Ned as you took your seat. You buried your face in your arms. “Y/n? Are you okay? What happened?” 

“People suck,” said MJ as tears began to soak your sleeves. “Where’s Peter?”

“Behind you,” he piped up. “What’s up, MJ? Y/n? Are you alright? What's wrong?” 

“Has anyone been asking you any avengers-related questions?” demanded MJ. 

“What? No, why?” 

“Because no one has stopped pestering y/n about them,” stated the other girl. “I have to get to class, but don’t leave her alone.” 

“Yeah, no, I won’t,” agreed Peter. A moment later, you felt a hand on your back. “Y/n? I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t know…” 

You pressed your face further into your arms with a sniffle. “Not your fault.” 

He rubbed your back gently as Mr. Downey began class. Just like all the other teachers, he had set today as a review day, but since it was the last block, he said students could do whatever as long as they didn’t leave the class. 

“Everything alright back here?” he asked afterwards. You must have missed when he approached the table, what with your head and arms resting on it. “You okay, y/n?”

You really wished people would stop asking you that in the middle of your very obvious mental breakdown. “Stressed,” you croaked. 

“Alright. Do you want to go out in the hall? Maybe talk about it?”

You shook your head. You were fine having your breakdown in the back of the classroom. 

“Okay then. Let me know if I can help.” He sounded sad as he walked away. 

It took you a few minutes to collect yourself. When you sat up, there was a tissue box sitting in front of you and you grabbed some to wipe your face. 

“MJ’s nice,” you said weakly. 

Peter let out a small laugh. “Uh, yeah, sometimes.” 

You took a deep breath. “Flash said he’d snitch to my dad if I don’t go to his party,” you confessed.

“What?” asked Ned. 

“It’s a long story. Basically, Flash’s dad knows mine and he invited me to his party because he knew our parents would be out. And my dad hates heroes because he’s a cop. So now I have to go to his stupid party and face stupid people who are going to ask me stupid questions.”

“Oh.” 

“I can still come if you want?” offered Peter. “It’s kinda my fault you’re in this mess.” 

“Not your fault, my own. I wasn’t expecting everyone to flip like that since they were so chill around you. But yes, please,” you accepted. “We won’t be staying for long. Ned and MJ can come, too, if you want.” 

“I’ll see what my parents say,” said Ned, taking out his phone. 

“Cool.” You glanced around the classroom. “I don’t think I want to do any more studying,” you decided. You copied Ned’s actions and Peter followed. 

You found that your phone had received at least a hundred notifications since you had first checked it that morning. Unfortunately, for much of your social media, you couldn’t just select them to be marked as read, so you muted as many chats as you could during the hour. There were a couple times when your hand slipped and you ended up opening the chats, but you had no problems leaving them on read. Until you started seeing messages from people who weren’t at your school and - even worse - messages from editors for magazines… who had gotten pictures of you, Natasha, and Pepper?!

That was creepy. You hadn’t really thought of paparazzi following you around that day, especially because you were no one special, but what the hell?

**_You:_ ** _ Pepper, I’m really really sorry, and I really don’t want to bother you because I know you’re super busy like all the time, but me and Peter presented our project and we were getting questions and people wanted to know if I met the avengers, so I said yeah because no one said anything when Peter mentioned knowing them through the internship  _

_ And I had no idea it’d be this big thing but now there are editors messaging me and I’m kinda freaking out.  _

You added a screenshot of an editor’s chat as proof. As far as you were aware, Pepper was still in New York so she should be awake, but she could’ve been in a meeting or something. 

**_You:_ ** _ I swear I only said in class that we were introduced  _

_ I really didn’t mean for this to happen I’m so sorry  _

Another notification came through and you fully intended to mute whoever it was before realizing you had been added to some sort of group chat by Peter. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ So since Flash is a Class A jerk and blackmailing y/n to go to his party, do you guys wanna come with us?? _

**_###-###-##**:_ ** _ I’m still waiting for my mom to text back and also I’m sitting right across from you?? _

So that must’ve been Ned then. 

**_###-###-**##:_ ** _ I’m gonna guess y/n is the new person.  _

_ Flash is blackmailing her?  _

You saved their numbers and sent back  _ Yeah, it’s y/n. It’s a long story. MJ, I’m guessing? _

**_MJ:_ ** _ Yep. I’ll come to the party if you sit with us at lunch  _

**_You:_ ** _ Half of lunch? I kinda hate people rn, ngl.  _

**_MJ:_ ** _ I can keep people away if you sit with us the whole time.  _ It was a pretty good offer. So of course you accepted. 

Worry filled you as you waited for Mrs. Potts to text you back and the conversation in the group chat carried on. Peter and Ned also kept you pretty occupied in person, pushing away anyone who tried to start asking questions.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” offered Peter as the class began packing up. 

“That’s a little far, you don’t have to. I wouldn’t mind if we walked to the subway together, though.” 

“Okay, okay, cool.” 

Once again people were asking questions almost the second you were out the door, but they seemed to be directing them to both you and Peter now, at least. 

It took until you were half a block from the school for it to stop. “That was just crazy. You were dealing with that since third block?” 

“That’s not the worst of it.” You pulled up the screenshot of the editor’s chat and handed him your phone. “I already told Pepper. Everything kinda sucks right now.” 

He read through it then handed your phone back. “Sheesh, I’m really sorry. Do you like… Do you want a hug or something?” 

The offer was sweet, but you still had to think about it. You hadn’t hugged anyone in a while and you weren’t quite ready to do so yet. But you shuffled closer for a sort of side hug near the subway entrance. “I’m not really a touchy person,” you explained, “but this is nice.” 

He pressed you a little closer. “That’s okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” You stayed together for a moment before he spoke again. “So, after the party, do you wanna have a movie night at the tower? I mean, I know you probably didn’t have anything planned, but you mentioned hanging out there last week, and it’d be a good way to wind down, you know? But if you’re not comfortable with it, that’s your choice, you know? Just, you know, if you want.” 

You laughed a bit. “I’m not sure how many times you said ‘you know’ just now, but sure. I’d love to hang out at the tower after.” 

He smiled sheepishly. “We can have a sleepover if you want. I mean like, you can sleep over at the tower. Like, in your room. Well, we could probably all sleep in the movie room, it has recliners and bean bags, no one would really care.” 

That was a bit iffy. Partying and a sleepover? If the lieutenant caught you breaking two rules in one night, you were signing your own death certificate. “Let’s put a hold on the sleepover, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. But I should get going so I don’t miss my train.” You released him and sent a small wave as you left towards the subway. 

You found yourself staring at your phone during the ride, just waiting for Pepper to message you back. She didn’t. She must’ve been upset, but you were hoping she was still in a meeting. Or had back to back meetings. Or something. 

Unfortunately, during that time, the media was getting more obnoxious. Which was terrifying, because articles were suddenly being released. Only a few of them had your name explicitly, but most of them mentioned you were a student at Midtown and potentially another Stark Intern, or SI for short. Apparently since Mr. Stark and Peter had been seen together frequently, it wouldn’t be odd for an SI to be seen with their boss in public. Other magazines were claiming that you might have been a relative to either of the women. New messages and follow requests were becoming overwhelming, and if your father found out, you would be dead before Flash could make good on his threat.

Pepper still hadn’t answered by the time you arrived home and you were losing all hope. She must have been so mad at you and you’d never be invited over again and you’d never go out for another girls’ day and- 

Your phone buzzed. She had texted you back.  _ This isn’t your fault, honey. I had a meeting when this all started and calls right after. I just got finished talking with PR to get those articles taken down and get the editors to leave you alone. I’m so sorry you had to deal with any of this. The media is ruthless. _

Oh thank God, she wasn’t mad at you. 

**_You:_ ** _ Is there anything I should be doing? _

**_Pepper:_ ** _ Just keep on with the way things are: don’t answer questions and let me know if anyone keeps bothering you. The school year is almost over right? So just try your best to focus on your grades. It might be best if you don’t come over to the tower for the next few days, though.  _

**_You:_ ** _ Okay. _ Her requests were manageable, you hadn’t been planning to go over anyways. But…  _ I don’t want to be rude but can the articles with my name be taken down first? Because my dad will flip out if he finds anything and I’m applying to colleges in like 6 months and also it’s just really creepy.  _

**_Pepper:_ ** _ It’s not rude, it’s perfectly reasonable. ♥ I’ll see if Tony can speed up the process.  _

**_You:_ ** _ Thank you _ Hopefully the genius would be able to take it down. After all, hadn’t he been the one to take down all the S.H.I.E.L.D. files after they had been leaked? Certainly he could do something as simple as removing the articles with your name. 

Another message came through, this time from James.  _ Are you okay? Peter told us what was up. _

Relief coursed through you. He wasn’t mad at you either, then.  _ I’m holding up. Pepper said she’d handle things and that I should just focus on school.  _

**_James:_ ** _ Don’t focus on it too much. Things won’t get better if you pass out again _ . You rolled your eyes, but he had a point.  _ You’re taking care of yourself, right?  _

**_You:_ ** _ Yes. I promise I am. I took the next two weeks off of work to relax a bit _

James went ahead to change the topic to work- your work that is- and you had accepted it without a second thought. It was nice to talk about something normal. You texted him as long as you could, but eventually the conversation came to an end. You had to get dinner ready for your father. Hopefully, your face would be off the news by the time he checked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm about to pass out from this migraine so 0 last minute changes, hopefully past me was good at proofreading this the first time


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you attend a party.   
> Moderate TW: Drugging/Drug abuse, implied attempted (unsuccessful) Non-con, fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you see, I labelled this with a _moderate_ TW. It’s the second level of the system I made. Last chapter there was a Mild TW for the PTSD dream. This is a step up from that in detail, but it’s still not horribly dark or explicit (at least not to me), so it remains at Moderate. The third level is Severe, and so far I only have one chapter with that warning (Which doesn’t come along for a long while). These next few chapters are all Moderate and Mild on the RealPunQueen TW scale, but still read with discretion.

The lieutenant, by some miracle, had never discovered the latest gossip. 

Unfortunately, that meant that you had to go to Flash’s party to keep it as such. You had spoken with MJ, Ned, and Peter during your last few normal school days (exam days were both early release) and decided it was best to just meet in front of the building. Especially since they’d all be coming in from Queens and it wouldn’t make sense for them to pick you up. 

_ “We should hang out after, then,” suggested MJ.  _

_ You glanced at Peter, who shrugged. Movie night was apparently whenever the two of you arrived at the tower, so long as it was before eleven. Peter’s curfew was midnight, so that was the latest you could both arrive without getting into trouble. “Well, maybe we can go out to eat somewhere but I’m not really a fan of cars so… we’d have to walk or take the train.”  _

_ “Okay. So we’ll meet at Flash’s and then go out for pizza?” _

Everyone agreed. Which was why you were standing in front of Flash’s apartment at 9:30 p.m. the following Friday. You hadn’t bothered to do so much as to change out of your school clothes for your first and most likely last high school party. You waved at Peter’s aunt, who had dropped the three of them off, as she left. 

The silence that had greeted your group in the lobby was entirely misleading. When the elevator opened, the party was in full swing. You wouldn’t stay for long, maybe a half hour tops, and then you’d be gone. People began trying to socialize almost immediately, which you had expected and answered as politely as you could. After all, it was a party. 

“Me and MJ should probably find Flash, you two… Do the opposite,” you shouted over the music as you made your way further into the large space. “We’ll meet up ASAP, keep an eye on your phones.” 

“Got it,” Peter shouted back. 

You and MJ had made your way along perfectly fine for a while, trying to find out where the host was, until you both got separated by another group passing. You attempted to find her, but the subject of your first search had got to you. 

“So, now we both know where the other lives. You sure you still don’t want to go out with me?” he joked. “I mean, this is the perfect opportunity.” 

You levelled a glare at him. “You know I don’t want to be here.”

“But you are, so come on. I’ll get you a soda, we can talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk, I’m here, you see me, now you have to keep up your end of the deal.” 

“Live a little,” he rebuked. “Come on, drinks are this way, I’ll get you a can. Stay for a bit, have a good time, I won’t say a word to your dad after.” 

You had no choice but to follow him. You whipped out your phone to send a text to the group chat.  _ Found Flash. He’s making me stay and “live a little” - I promise no drinking or drugs. Just a can of soda and we’ll go.  _

**_Ned:_ ** _ got it.  _

Flash got you a can of soda, as promised, and led you to a seating area as he cracked it open and pushed it into your hand. “So, the Avengers?” 

“That’s what you want to talk about?” 

“Well, yeah, why not? Unless you don’t actually know them. But everyone’s talking about your little interview recording so I’d assume you meant it.” 

You rolled your eyes and refused to say anything, nursing your drink instead.

“Okay, fine. Why don’t we go dance?” 

“We just sat down.” 

“It’s a party, you’ve gotta keep up. Besides, I’m the host and you need an example to follow.” 

This again? You were perfectly capable of being a host. “You’re not exactly the ideal candidate,” you deadpanned. 

He pulled you to different conversations and you sipped at your drink indecisively during all of them, trying your best to keep an eye on it and on the people around you as you were pushed at and talked to. The Avengers thing had died down in the last few days, but people were still trying to bring it up before moving on to the next topic. 

You were really beginning to wish that you had searched more for MJ. The conversation was beginning to drain you. You couldn’t believe how tired you were getting. It had been a mere hour- wait, an hour? You were supposed to leave a while ago. You must’ve been really distracted, especially because there were now several texts on your phone. You blinked hard a few times and tried to process them. Why were you so tired? 

**_You:_ ** _ Flash kept dragging me around, omw out now. _

“I need to find my friends,” you excused yourself. Flash, unfortunately, followed. 

“Friends? You have- you came with other people? I thought you were alone?” 

You were really beginning to feel dizzy. There was so much going on. “MJ and Peter and Ned. We’re friends. I should- I should find them, we should be leaving.” 

“Leaving? The party has barely started. Hey, you alright? You’re looking pretty hot. Maybe you should take off your sweater.” 

You stumbled. You liked your sweater. You didn’t want it off. What was happening? You sloppily smacked Flash’s hands away. “I’m fine. I just need to find my friends.” 

“Why don’t we look for them together?” he suggested. He took your nearly empty soda can and set it on the table. “Lets go this way.” 

“No. No. Flash let me go.” This was wrong. This was very wrong. You tried to pull your wrist away but he gripped tighter. Painfully. “I don’t want to.” 

“We’re going to find your friends. Or maybe we should find a room for you, you look pretty tired.” 

You were, but that's beside the point. You had a room. Actually, you had two, one at home and one at the tower, and this was neither. “No. No, I want to go home.” 

“You can go home later. Just spend the night with me. Come on, take off your sweater.” He reached for the clothing article once more.

You backed away angrily, but mostly confused. “I don’t- I don’t want to spend the night. I want-” What was it that you wanted? 

You stumbled and Flash caught you, wrapping an arm around you as you tried to push away. “Come on.”

* * *

Peter’s Spider-Sense was going haywire. The bright lights and loud noise of the party weren’t at all helpful for him, and he desperately wanted to leave, but not without his friends. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

He and Ned were looking around for where y/n and MJ could’ve gone. He didn’t care if she was with Flash at the moment, he’d rather be bullied than stay any longer. 

“Hey, there’s MJ!” Ned pointed her out in the crowd and the boys made their way over. 

“MJ! Where’s y/n? We need to go.” 

“Lost her in the crowd! What’s up? Is it-?” She looked meaningfully at Peter and he nodded. MJ had figured out on her own months ago that Peter was Spider-Man, and he had explained the rest. 

The frantic texting ensued after that, each trying to get a hold of her before she finally texted that she was on her way out. 

“I’ll wait by the exit,” offered Ned. “Maybe you guys can find her on the way?” 

They split up after that, with MJ and Peter trying to spot her among all the people. 

“Is that y/n? With Flash, over there! By the wall.” MJ pushed through a large group and Peter followed closely. 

“Y/n! Y/n!” 

The girl turned around at her name. Flash tried to keep her moving, but was stopped by MJ.

“We’re taking her home,” she declared. 

“She’s drunk.” Y/n shook her head to disagree. “She can sleep in my apartment.”

“I wanna go home,” slurred y/n. “Don’t wanna sleep-” Flash’s grip tightened and she stopped with a whimper.

“Let her go, Flash,” insisted MJ. “She came with us, we had plans, so now we’re leaving.” 

“Oh come on, she-” MJ pulled her fist back and slammed it into Flash’s face. People around them jumped back and y/n stumbled into MJ. Many pulled out their phones to record.

“What’d you do to her?” MJ demanded as y/n buried her face into MJ’s shoulder.

“I didn’t do anything!” Flash was rubbing at his face and watering eyes.

“She looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

Inwardly, Peter agreed with MJ’s assessment. He had actually seen y/n pass out before. 

“She’ll be fine! This is a party, she got drunk, that’s not unusual.” 

Peter glared. “She said she wouldn’t. And it wouldn’t be the first time this week that she passed out.”

MJ pointed to someone in the crowd as she slowly sunk to the ground with y/n. “Hey, you! Call an ambulance.” 

“No! No one needs to call an ambulance, it’ll wear off in a few hours.” The person with the phone stopped.

“You don’t know that,” countered MJ. 

“Yeah I do, because-” Flash cut off, ears reddening. “I just do.”

Peter closed the space between himself and Flash. “What did you do to her?” he demanded. 

“R- relax, Penis, I didn’t-” 

Peter grabbed a fistful of his peer’s shirt and pulled him close. “ _ What did you do to her? _ ” 

_ “Holy shit, they’re just sleeping pills!  _ Christ, Parker, let me go, that’s all they were.” 

Peter tried to piece it together. Why would y/n want sleeping pills? She said she didn’t want to try anything, and they had the whole night planned out. Why would Flash give her sleeping pills? That was it: why would  _ Flash _ give her pills? The realization made Peter’s blood run cold before it began pounding in his ears. He forced Flash into the wall. “You gave her sleeping pills because she refused to date you, didn’t you? That was why you invited her to the party.” 

People began to mutter around them as they realized the conclusion Peter had come to.

Flash, with no regard for his vulnerable position, snarked “Aw, Penis, did you finally grow a pair? We can share if you want her that badly.” 

Peter was pretty sure he heard something snap when his fist flew into Flash’s face. There were several gasps around him. 

“Peter, stop!” MJ shouted. “People are recording, he already confessed. Let’s get y/n home.” 

Y/n was wrapped in MJ’s arms and Peter shoved Flash away to see if she was alright. He could tell she was breathing evenly, and she mumbled a bit when he tried to wake her but made no other movements. He gathered her in his arms and carried her out. 

MJ explained the events to Ned as they made their way to the lobby. Peter tried to think of what to do next as the group sat together on some of the couches. Ned and MJ would be getting a lift home by Ned’s mom, who was supposed to pick them up after they all got pizza, but it looked like that wasn’t happening. 

Y/n needed to get home, or at least somewhere she could safely stay the night. Peter’s mind went to the first option available, and he hurried to call.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony is worried.  
> Mild TW: Discussions of drug abuse and implied non-con

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: This is the second chapter.

Tony and the rest of the team, plus Pepper, were chilling in the lounge and waiting for the kids to come home for movie night. So far it was fun; teasing, storytelling, snacks, the usual. 

Tony was totally relaxed when Peter called him. “Hey, Underoos, you on your way over?”

“Uh, no.” Tony’s heart and face dropped at Peter’s tone. “Could you come pick us up?” 

Tony jumped up, ignoring the looks from his teammates as he moved away. Pepper followed, concern obvious on her features.“What happened?” 

“I sort of got into a fight.” That was unexpected. 

“Are you alright?” inquired Tony. He couldn’t help himself. He knew Peter could defend himself, he’d seen him training, but still. “What type of a fight? Like a suit type of a fight?”

“No, no, just a fight, um… I’m fine. There are probably videos though and um-” Tony could hear a sob escape Peter and he waited for a moment. “Y/n…” 

Tony grasped Pepper’s hand as he waited anxiously. “Peter, what happened?” 

“Flash- Flash gave her sleeping pills, that’s why I punched him. I think he was- was gonna-.” 

Tony understood without another word. It wasn’t exactly a new concept. “I’ll be there. Is it just you and y/n? Anyone else?” 

“N- no, just us. Ned’s mom is picking up him and MJ.”

“FRIDAY, give me a time to Peter’s location,” Tony requested. 

“Legally, I estimate thirty minutes, Boss.” 

“Peter, I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay?” 

He waited for Peter’s confirmation before ending the call. 

He turned to his wife pleadingly. “Pep, I know you’re off, but I’m gonna need you to work with PR like right now. Peter got into a fight, apparently there are videos. I need to pick the kids up.” 

Pepper nodded as her eyes searched Tony. “Okay.” 

“Okay. I love you so much, I’ll tell you the rest when I get back. Make sure those videos are backed up before they’re deleted,” he added, speeding towards the garage.

“FRIDAY, I better not have a single red light,” he demanded, grabbing the first set of keys he could. He made sure it was one of his less flashy cars and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Most direct path available.”

“Already on it, Boss.” A map came up as he sped out of the garage. 

His mind was on y/n. Barnes had requested almost two weeks ago that he make a mug that could detect commonly used drugs for this sort of thing. It was supposed to be for her, he explained, a practical gift because of something she had said. Tony hadn’t put much focus into it, having had a general idea of what could be done and working on it between other projects. It probably would’ve helped her if he had finished it. 

Twenty minutes ended up closer to fifteen, and Tony was calling Peter. Ned and MJ had been waiting with him, and the group walked out together, y/n in Peter’s arms. The pairs split off by the doors, MJ and Ned assuring their friend and his mentor that they could take care of themselves until Ned’s mom got there.

Peter sat in the back of the car with y/n resting in his lap. Tony, well aware that neither teenager was buckled in, drove much more carefully back to the tower. 

“FRIDAY, could you make sure Dr. Johnson is in Medical? Tell her… Y/n was drugged, some sort of sleeping pills, currently unconscious.” 

“Of course, Boss.” 

Tony glanced back to Peter in the rearview mirror. “Pepper is talking to PR.”

“Okay,” Peter practically whispered.

The ride was silent but for Peter’s soft hiccoughing as Tony tried to figure out what to say. “This wasn’t your fault,” he mentioned, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “I know the type of person you are, kiddo, and you’re probably blaming yourself right now. No one is to blame except for the person who did this to her.” 

Peter didn’t say anything and Tony didn’t force him to. After they had made their way up to medical, however, Tony insisted that Peter go to bed. 

“But-”

“No, Peter. She’ll be fine. Now you need to go to bed.” 

“Just let me stay for a little while,” pleaded the teen.

“‘A little while’ until when?” 

“Until… Until the tests come back?” he requested. “And we find out if she’s okay.” 

Tony sighed. If he sent Peter up now, the kid would spend the entire night awake wondering. “Fine.” He pointed his mentee towards a chair and took one himself. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” 

Peter nodded. “We um, we all got to the party fine, and y/n really didn’t want to be there. She um, she was only there because Flash was blackmailing her. Apparently her dad hates heroes, so she’s not supposed to be here. But um, word got around school.” 

Tony nodded. He’d spent the better part of two hours scrubbing y/n’s name and any clear pictures of her with Natasha and Pepper off the net. He kept in mind that y/n wasn’t supposed to be around the tower as he internally debated whether or not to call her father. 

“Flash used it to get her there. Their parents know each other. Y/n wanted to just show up and leave, since she wasn’t supposed to be there, so MJ and her went looking for Flash, but they got separated sometime during the party. And Flash was forcing her to stay. She said she’d only drink a can of soda, I have the text. But um… That’s kinda it. We found Flash trying to drag y/n somewhere.” 

Tony waited to see if Peter wanted to say more since the teen was visibly struggling. Peter scrubbed some tears off his face.

“MJ asked what he did because y/n looked like she was gonna pass out. Flash said he didn’t do anything so I mentioned that she’s- y/n, she’s passed out before. MJ said that someone should call an ambulance and he said not to. That it’d wear off in a few hours. I um… I pushed him against a wall and asked him what he did and he kinda freaked out and said that they were just- just sleeping pills. And then I realized why he’d give her sleeping pills and I think I broke his nose. I dunno.” 

“What happened after that?” encouraged Tony. 

“MJ told me that people were recording and we should go home.” 

So that was all of it then. “I’m proud of you for defending her,” he said honestly. “I can’t say I condone violence, but I’m proud of you.” 

The teen didn’t say anything. Tony didn’t expect him to.

“I’m gonna go through the videos, see if any of them caught him confessing.” 

“Are you gonna get him arrested?”

“Yes.” No point in lying, he deserved to be arrested. 

“Won’t that mean I’d be in trouble for hitting him?” 

Tony contemplated it. “No. There are ways to work around that, you’d probably just get a warning or a fine.” And if he did, Tony would pay for it.

“Does that mean y/n is gonna be in the news again?” 

Tony shook his head. “It’s illegal to release victims’ names.” 

He turned expectantly to Dr. Johnson, who had just re-entered the general treatment area. 

“Zaleplon,” she informed them. “Otherwise known as Sonata. Used to help people fall asleep. She’ll probably be out for the rest of the night. She’s clean otherwise.”

Tony gave Peter a stern look. “Y/n will be fine. Now go to bed.” 

“Does she have to stay down here?” he questioned. Tony gave him a confused look. “She’d probably rather wake up in her own bed. Across from my room.” 

He looked to Johnson. “She should be fine sleeping on her own,” Johnson answered. 

Peter turned to Tony for permission. “Peter, the entire team is in the living room, do you really want to?” 

“Fri can kick em out.” So he did really want to. 

“You heard him, FRIDAY,” sighed Tony. He thanked Dr. Johnson for her time and allowed her to return to her apartment on the floor. She and Dr. Cho were, quite literally, the team’s lifesavers. 

“Shall I send them to the meeting room?” asked FRIDAY.

He ran a hand through his hair. Looks like movie night would be cancelled. “Go ahead. Do they know anything?” 

“I believe they’ve seen a few videos.” 

The meeting room and bedrooms were in opposite directions, so Tony and Peter ended up splitting apart near the now-empty lounge. Tony reminded Peter that he was to go to bed right after setting y/n in her room, then he went to address his team. 

The mood was somber. “The kids are fine,” he began. That was the most important part. “FRIDAY said you guys saw a video.” 

“Peter punched a kid. The audio wasn’t the greatest,” reported Steve. “We got a gist of it having something to do with y/n.” 

Tony sunk into his usual seat and heaved a troubled sigh. “Flash, the kid Peter punched, drugged y/n. They were just sleeping pills, and the blood test came back to prove it, but it was more about what he was planning to do afterwards that made Peter hit him.” 

The first question came from Clint. “Does her dad know?” 

“About that… this Flash kid blackmailed y/n to go to the party with the fact that she’s been spending time here. I think it’d be better to let y/n choose to tell him herself.” 

“Shouldn’t he already know? It was in the news for nearly a day,” pointed out Steve. “She’s been visiting for weeks now.”

“Her name was barely online for a few hours,” corrected Tony. “The articles are relatively vague.” 

“So she snuck out to go to a party because she didn’t want Logan to know she was here?” clarified Sam. 

“Logan?”

“That’s her dad’s name. Logan Y/l/n.”

Tony nodded before saying “No idea. Maybe he allowed her to go, maybe she was desperate enough to sneak out. Whatever it was, she’s in her room here, now.” 

Natasha got up to leave. 

“Please don’t murder anybody, I’m planning to put together a lawsuit and have him arrested,” requested Tony. 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t planning on it. Let me know if you need help gathering information,” she said before leaving. 

Whatever she was going to do, Tony didn’t have the energy to care about. “Does anyone else have something to say? Questions or anything?” 

“How long until it wears off? Shouldn’t someone be awake if y/n gets up in the middle of the night?” voiced Clint. 

“Dr. Johnson said she should be asleep until the morning,” Tony answered. “So we should be fine.” 

No one said anything after that, each person filtering out silently as they realised the meeting was over. Tony and Pepper were left as the only ones in the room. Away from the eyes of the rest of the team, the husband and wife embraced each other. 

“Peter said she was excited. They wouldn’t stop texting about it. Apparently he was trying to convince her to spend the night,” Tony confessed. “I think this ruined it.” 

“Y/n is stronger than she looks,” comforted Pepper. “I told you about how girls’ day went, didn’t I?” Tony nodded. “She’ll make it through this just fine.” 

The pair retired to their room, but Tony couldn’t sleep. So, he did as he usually did and left for his lab. He had a mug to make. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that happened. How's it going?  
> Thank you all for the well wishes, my migraine improved way faster than usual and I am convinced it's because of you all <3  
> Happy Halloween if you celebrate it!!
> 
> Also... It's so so weird like... trying not to give things away in my comment replies. It's so difficult, because I'm out here on Chapter 55 like,,,,,, KNOWING and y'all are all the way back here... The temptation to just mass publish is so high, but I don't want to burn out, so I'm not doing that. I'm not doing that. But there's so much to look forward toooooo ahhhhh.... I'm so excited for you all!!!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you choose to stay at the tower.  
> Moderate TW: discussions of the previous events, panic attack, plus throwing up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I screaming? Maybe. This is the 3rd chapter for ONE event but it’s a big thing so… yeah. Also, you guys were so excited... I love it.

_ It was dark. There was a talk show on the radio, the one your mom always tuned in to on week-nights.  _

_ “I love this show,” she said from the driver’s seat. “It always has the best advice.” _

_ But something about it all wasn’t right. The radio was losing signal, fading to whitenoise. “Mom, change the channel! It’s not playing anymore!” _

_ “What was that y/n/n?” She turned to face you. “Did you say something?”  _

_ No. No no no, this is where it all went wrong. “Mom no, look at the road!” The light was bright. You could feel the tightening of your seatbelt. The force of the crash. _

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped. You tossed off your covers- but they weren’t your covers. You frantically searched the room for a hint of where you were. A dim light revealed two doors in front of you, a purple clock on the wall, purple bedspread and an amazing city view beside you.  _ This is familiar… This is the tower. _

You flopped back into the bed, trying to get a handle on your stomach. Sweat beaded on your face and neck, and you swiped at it before rubbing your aching collarbone. The tower. How did you get here? The last thing you remembered… was losing MJ at the party. You hoped you didn’t do anything stupid, but your head was pounding, your stomach was rolling, and your tongue felt like sandpaper. You pushed up your sleeve to investigate your aching wrist. How did that bruise get there? “FRIDAY?” you rasped. You cleared your throat. 

“Yes, Miss? Would you like me to get someone for you?” 

“No, no… How’d I get here?” You didn’t remember much of anything from last night. You knew you’d gone to the party. What have you done?

“Mr. Parker carried you up.” 

You couldn’t believe he had to take care of you like that. How could you have been so irresponsible? You swore to yourself you wouldn’t drink - ever. Goodness, this whole mess… You felt like trash. Had you gotten drunk? You would never drink again, of that you were certain. 

You tossed off your covers and stumbled towards the kitchen for a glass of water, only to find the lights on already. You peaked in to see three people. Steve, James, and Mr. Stark. Your eyes drifted to the cups on the counter. Mugs, probably of beer. 

Maybe this was a bad idea. 

Unfortunately you had been noticed. “Hey there, Ace. We weren’t expecting you to be up for a little while,” said Mr. Stark. He sounded cautious. You weren’t quite sure how to respond.

You cleared your throat in an effort to make your voice function. “Sorry for interrupting.” Your eyes remained glued to the cups. Mr. Stark had the most, Steve was second, and James was almost done.

“You’re not interrupting,” James stated. “Just surprised us. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” you answered easily. 

Steve cleared his throat pointedly and you took half a step back. “The truth please.” 

Could he even get drunk? Mr. Stark shifted his cup slightly and your eyes snapped to him before darting away.“I just came for some water.” You had the sudden realization that you could’ve had some from the bathroom sink. That would’ve saved you from… whatever was going on.

“Well, you can certainly get some. Or you can have some apple cider if you want, there’s some on the stove,” offered Mr. Stark, waving his mug towards you. Apple cider. That’s what it was. Not beer. [AN: Apple cider as in the U.S version of spiced apple juice]

“Either is fine.” You took slow steps towards them. Your mug was more moderately sized, closer to that of a coffee cup. You accepted it with thanks and shuffled towards the empty table. It was relatively quiet as you consumed the warm drink. It was sweet and a little cinnamon-y. It helped your stomach settle a bit. 

The silence around you was pressing, and you made it through half your mug before saying “I wasn’t trying to get drunk last night. I’m sorry.” 

Mr. Stark sighed. Maybe from relief? “You weren’t-” 

“No, sir.” 

“I wasn’t done.” You shrunk on yourself. “Someone slipped you a sleeping pill. You weren’t drunk.” 

“Oh.” You massaged the bruise on your wrist. That changed a lot of things. That was… pretty scary, but at least it didn’t seem as stupid. You forced your brain to think of what had happened. Did you eat anything? Drink anything? You had some foggy memory of a soda. “I’m sorry.” 

“This is not your fault,” asserted Mr. Stark fiercely. “In no way was this your fault. You hear me?” 

You nodded. “Do you know anything else?” you trailed off softly, staring at your mug of cider. 

The lack of an immediate answer caused you to glance up. “Peter caught him before anything happened,” Steve informed you slowly. “Said he was known as Flash.” 

“Flash.” He had invited you over. He had drugged you. What time did he have to do that? The night came rushing back. You had been searching, he made you stay for a soda. He was dragging you around. He wanted you to take off your sweater. What happened after that? 

You couldn’t remember, but you didn’t think you really wanted to. 

You excused yourself from the table and rushed toward the hall. You could hear someone call your name but they weren’t important. The closest bathroom was the guest bathroom. You didn’t bother to shut the door. You barely made it to the toilet in time. 

The only thing your stomach had to lose was the apple cider, and it burned like hell. Someone had come in to pull your hair away from your face and rub your back. You didn’t pay them much mind. Flash had drugged you. Flash, who had blackmailed you into going, drugged you. Flash who  _ knew where you lived _ and  _ knew you’d be alone _ had drugged you. You’d been drugged by Flash. 

When your stomach was empty, the heaving gave way to sobs. What else would he do? You didn’t want to think about it, but it was the only thing on your mind. 

“Y/n? Why don’t you rinse your mouth out. You’ll feel better, trust me.” Two hands, one distinctly cooler than the other, tied your hair into a low ponytail. James had been the one to follow you. 

You shook your head slightly. No, nothing could make you feel better right now. “He knows- He knows where I live. He knew I’d be home alone this weekend, he knew that if I-” You couldn’t finish. If you weren’t home until Monday, no one would be the wiser. You twisted back to face him. “I don’t- I don’t want to go home,” you confessed. You were scared. This was scary. 

You flinched back when he raised his hand and he lowered it slowly. “Hey, just listen to me. You don’t have to. You can stay here, no one’s going to send you out. He won’t touch you at all. Tony’s going to put up a lawsuit against him, okay? You won’t have to see him ever again.”

You nodded, but couldn’t stop crying. It was just so much. This was not what you had thought would happen at all. This was not how you wanted to start your summer. What if your dad came home earlier than you expected? What if your dad sent someone to check on you?

“Okay. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

You shook your head. What if Flash did something to your apartment? What if he told his friends where you lived? What if he mentioned it to his father and his father talked to yours and yours… What would he do?  _ He would kill you _ . 

“Hey, look at me, deep breath. You can do it, I know you can.” No. No, he was wrong. He was so wrong. “I’m gonna come a little closer, okay?” 

No, no, no, no, no. Not okay. You shook your head frantically. There was way too much going on. You scrambled back, slamming into the wall. “I just- space,” you choked out.  _ I need space. Someone who barely knows me is watching me fall apart and I’m staying in a place full of people who don’t know me and I can’t go home because of Flash but I don’t want to be here _ . 

“Do you want me to go?” he asked softly. 

You nodded. 

“Okay. If you need me I’ll be right outside.” That was probably supposed to be reassuring but you just wanted him gone, and when he was, you hastened to shut the door. You began to heave again, which made you approach the toilet once more, but your stomach was empty. 

You need to slow down. You needed your brain to slow down. This was only making you feel worse. You curled up with your back against the wall behind you, hugging yourself tightly. How did you get into this mess? From one history project? Or was it from the dinner? Or even earlier, when you met Steve and James? Did any of it matter? You had no one right now. Then again, you didn’t have anyone before, but at least before, the people around you were predictable. 

Your tears tapered down after a while, leaving you exhausted and shaky. You felt like you were learning how to walk again as you rose. The first thing you did was to flush the toilet before you turned to the sink to wash your hands and face.

You stared into the mirror above the sink as it came into your sight. It was your first time seeing your reflection since you had left for the party last night. There was eyeliner dripping down your face and your eyeshadow had blurred so much, you could barely tell it was supposed to be more than one color. Your eyes were puffy, and your nose was runny as well. You were a mess. And, even with your sweater, you were cold. 

You turned on the faucet, quickly washing your hands before scrubbing away at your face. The soap didn’t do the greatest job removing your makeup, but you made do. You also rinsed out your mouth - it wasn’t the same as brushing your teeth, but it was the best you could get. James was right about that, at least, it certainly helped you feel better. Afterwards, you drank some water to get rid of the slight burning sensation in your throat. When you were done, you begrudgingly opened the door. 

James, true to his word, was waiting outside. 

“I’m sorry,” you said instantly. You wrapped your arms around yourself. “I didn’t mean to freak out like that.” 

“It’s alright. You okay? Wanna talk about it?” 

You shook your head. “I think I just want sleep.” 

“Okay. Breakfast is in a few hours, should I wake you up?” 

A part of you, the part that loved food, was dying to say yes. The rest of you was well aware that breakfast meant other people and you weren’t ready for that. So you shook your head. “I’d rather just stay in my room.” The words had fallen before you could think about the phrasing, but you supposed it was correct. That was your room now.

“That’s alright. Let FRIDAY know if you need anything, she can call us down.”

You nodded and retreated to your room, planning to barricade yourself for however long was possible. 

You discovered that the door to the room locked. It was a small blessing, but you took comfort in it nonetheless. You then went to the closet. Most of the clothes you had bought were spring and summer pieces, but there was a knit sweater that seemed pretty warm so you grabbed it. The leggings you had were bound to be comfier than your jeans, so you changed into those too. You took a glance around the closet. Something about it seemed different, but it wasn’t noticeable enough to worry you.

You then slipped under the covers and wrapped yourself tightly. If you happened to wake up warm in a couple hours, that’d be fine, but for now you just wanted to forget. Forget the nightmares, forget Flash, forget about the lieutenant, forget it all. You knew that was impossible, so you turned to the next best thing. You slept.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you train.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: This is the second chapter.

You were allowed to mope in your room for one whole day. During that day, you had been visited by Pepper, Clint, Sam, and Peter, all of whom were concerned for your general well-being. Peter had sat with you in your room for lunch and dinner after you had slept through breakfast. Clint and Sam had started small talk for some time, merely trying to check in. Pepper had been kind enough to point out the locations of things in the bathroom, and encouraged you to shower. She also mentioned that Natasha had retrieved some more clothes - mostly underwear, to be specific. It explained the slight change you had noticed in the closet earlier. 

Sunday was vastly different. You had awoken from yet another nightmare around four a.m. and were unable to go back to sleep. After about a half hour of staring at the ceiling and wishing for sleep, you grew too bored to wait for it to be a reasonable hour. So you fell back on a familiar habit.

“FRIDAY,” you whispered, tossing off your covers as you sat up. 

“Yes, Miss?” 

“Is there like… I don’t know, a book collection anywhere around here?” 

“Would you like me to guide you to the team’s library, Miss?” 

A whole library. Well, they did have the space for it. “That’d be amazing.” 

The library was on the other side of the floor. Apparently, all the entertainment spaces were opposite the bedrooms, with the kitchen and living room dividing the two. You were quick to find a somewhat familiar book and return to your room.

You weren't really sure why you were still at the tower, but you didn't really want to leave, even with the nightmares. From the way you saw it, you were damned if you stayed and damned if you left. You had either your father or Flash to deal with, and for no discernable reason other than familiarity, the former seemed like a better option than the latter. Resigning yourself to the possible consequences, you flipped open the book in hand to wait out the morning. Maybe if you distracted yourself from it for a long enough time, it wouldn’t seem like a problem. 

Like lunch the day before, Peter came in to have breakfast with you, insisting that he wouldn't leave until you ate something. He informed you that Flash was in custody and that Mr. Stark planned to get him tried as an adult on your behalf. 

Peter also invited you for a belated movie night. You said you'd consider it, but you didn't really want to go. On the other hand, it gave you a reason to stay in the tower for another night, so you didn’t want to say no. 

Your next visitor that morning was not someone you at all expected, and unlike the rest, this visitor was not gentle. “Get up,” Natasha ordered. “Come on. You've been moping for a whole day, I'm not going to let you go on for a second.” She pushed you into the closet and shoved a set of exercise clothes into your hands with an order to change quickly. 

You did so and stepped out of the closet to see her waiting near the door. Her eyes scanned over you, landing on the tennis shoes you now donned. She nodded sharply. “Come on.”

She moved with purpose, which forced you to pick up your pace. You were hesitant to follow her into the sitting area, but encountered no one on your way to the elevator. The fact intrigued you. Were they just not around or did Natasha kick them all out? The gym was equally empty and you followed Natahsa to an area by the mats. 

She stood beside a punching bag. “Hit it.” You raised your eyebrows at the order. “Go on, give it your best.” 

You pulled your hand back into a fist and hit the bag awkwardly. 

Natasha gave you an unimpressed glare. “That was pathetic. Put some force behind it.” 

You hit it harder.

She nudged your feet so they were no longer parallel. "Again." 

You weren't really sure why she was having you do this, but you followed the command. The next thing she instructed you to do was to pivot your foot. Punching was a full body movement. After that, you were told to keep your wrist straight. She had you repeat the action several times, encouraging you to be faster and hit harder, and then showing you how to use your other hand. After a while, the awkwardness and embarrassment faded.

So that was how an assassin taught you how to punch. You had sort of already known from your father, in case someone ever tried to kidnap you, but you must've gotten rusty over the years. That, or your father just hadn’t taught you well. 

“I think that’s enough,” she said as you began to hit the bag without orders. “You’re a quick learner.” 

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You inspected your knuckles, which were stinging but not terribly damaged. “I’ve learned this before.” 

“Interesting. So, are you still scared?” she asked. 

You blinked a few times. “What?”

“You didn’t want to leave your room. You were scared of the kid who drugged you, you didn’t want to go home until you knew your father would be there, right? Are you still scared of him? After knowing that if he ever came close to you, you could throw a solid punch at him?” 

So that’s why she brought you down here. That was… rather effective, actually. “I can’t really throw a punch if he drugs me again,” you pointed out. 

“You can certainly throw a punch before that happens,” she shot back. “Solar plexus or temple are usually most disorienting. Base of the throat if you really want to do some damage. A hit to the kidneys is pretty painful too.” 

You weren’t sure what else you could’ve expected from the assassin. You tilted your head to gesture that she had a point. You swiped at the sweat that had beaded on your face. “So… is that all?”

“Do you feel better?” 

“Yeah,” you admitted. A sheepish grin made its way onto your face. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome. Why don’t we go grab some water?” 

The kitchen was still empty when you entered. 

It didn’t stay that way for long. The glass in your hand slipped and you barely managed to stop it from breaking after your scream. “My God, could you  _ not _ do that?” You placed a hand over your pounding heart, facing Clint, who was now also in the kitchen.

“Didn’t mean to startle you. I need to borrow Nat and this was the fastest way to get to her. How was your first training day?” He hopped down from the cabinet he was standing on as he spoke. 

“First?” You turned to Natasha. She didn’t mention there would be any others. 

“We’ll talk about it,” she promised, leaving quickly with Clint. 

That left you tired and slightly sweaty in the middle of an empty kitchen. The time on the stove showed you it was almost lunch. You weren’t terribly hungry but you were there, and there was nothing better to do. You opened the fridge to find plenty of notes claiming ownership of various tupperware. 

Of the items that were unclaimed, and theoretically available, there were a variety of fruits and vegetables, a wide selection of cheeses, three types of toast, and burger buns. 

“Hey, FRIDAY?” 

“Yes Miss y/l/n?” 

“Ehhh… Nevermind.” You looked through the fridge a little more to find some sliced chicken and ground beef. They had the same dates, but you didn’t want to open both, and the ground beef would probably be easier to cook. “Actually, do you know if anyone was planning to make anything specific tonight for dinner? Or for lunch? Specifically, um, with the ground beef.” 

She took some time to respond. “Captain Rogers was planning on making meatballs tomorrow, but he says you’re free to use it.” 

Well… He did give you permission. You washed up and began to prep the ingredients for oven baked burgers. At one point you asked FRIDAY to put on some low music. No one came to bother you while you cooked. The patties were in the oven after half of an hour. While you wondered where Clint and Natasha had disappeared to, you figured it was more-than-likely none of your business. 

Steve entered as you were sliding the second tray into the oven. “Hey there.” 

You were reminded that you hadn’t seen him since the last time you entered the kitchen. “Hi,” you greeted awkwardly. “I’m making burgers.” 

“Burgers sound amazing… You’re baking them?” 

“It’s the easiest way to make them indoors,” you explained. “This is the first batch, FRIDAY mentioned that I should make more.” 

He brushed his hair back with his fingers while wearing a boyish grin. "Yeah, that’s mostly because of me and Buck. Peter, too. We probably each eat three times a normal serving. Want any help cooking?” 

The last time you had cooked with anyone was baking cookies with your mom, right before the crash. Your father was never much of a chef, so the cooking was left to you when you were old enough to be trusted in the kitchen. It was about time you made some new memories. “That’d be nice.”

He washed his hands and retrieved a cutting board and knife as you separated the vegetables. 

He was quick to notice the difference between the ones you had set aside for him and the ones you kept for yourself. He had the cucumbers, lettuce, and one of the onions. “You don’t trust me to slice the tomatoes?” 

You rolled a single tomato in his direction. “Not that. I just split them up so we’d each have a group of veggies. More uniform slicing that way.” 

“Ah.” 

“If it’s that big of a deal, we can switch,” you murmured, tossing an avocado between your hands. 

“It’s not, Angel. I was joking. I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. There was that nickname again… He kept it just to spite you, you were sure. “Don’t take it to heart.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement and began your task. A glance to your left showed Steve working through his vegetables steadily. “Okay, I don’t want to sound weird, but does the whole weapons training thing make you better when it comes to handling a knife in the kitchen?” 

“That’s not the weirdest question I’ve got about my career. I’d say ask Bucky, though, that’s more his thing. Natasha’s a pretty good second, but she doesn’t use them as often. Or cook that much. I don’t know how they never cut themselves. I could never do it. Bucky tried teaching me once, it didn’t go well. That’s how I got this scar.” He held up his index finger to show you the faint mark across the middle of it. “He has this habit of flipping knives between his fingers and I wanted to know how he did it. Never really figured it out,” grinned Steve. “But yeah, ask him. He’d know for sure.” 

You nodded and continued slicing the tomatoes in front of you. You and Steve were silent long enough for the first batch of burgers to finish. You opened the oven to reveal the mouth-watering goodness inside. “Yesss,” you whispered. Perfectly done. 

You grabbed an oven mitt eagerly and set both trays on the stovetop. “Do you know where the spatulas are?” you asked Steve. “And serving plates.” 

He retrieved one of each object for you and himself as more people made their way into the kitchen. Either they were attracted to the smell of food or FRIDAY called them down, but not a single person walked into the kitchen silently. Almost everyone entered with comments about how great lunch smelled, while others merely mentioned grabbing plates or the like. Setting up went by quickly since it was buffet-style serving. Someone had set the condiments on one end and the plates on another, with the meat and veggies in between. You began working on the second batch quickly. A glance over to the bowl with the meat showed that you could probably make an extra half a batch before you’d be finished.

“FRIDAY said burgers,” announced Tony as he entered. “Jesus, they smell good.” 

A proud smile made its way across your face. You couldn’t help yourself. “Uh, I’m not Jesus, but thank you.”

“Ace? You made them? I could adopt you. Could I adopt you? Pepper, can we adopt her?” he rambled as he made his own before biting into it. “Mm. Amazing.” 

Agreements echoed around the table. Your face heated under the praise. “Thanks, there’s a second batch in the oven so feel free to take what you want.” 

“Take one,” urged Steve quietly as people settled at the table. “Go ahead, sit down, relax.”

“But the-” you gestured to the oven. “I can wait.” 

“I’ll get them when they’re done, don’t worry about it. Come on, you made them.” 

That was a very persuading point. You topped your burger with all your favorites, neatly making sure there was a bit of everything before taking a seat between Peter and Sam. If Sam realized it was your mom’s old recipe, he didn’t bring it up, but you did catch him wink when he complimented “I haven’t had a burger like this in years.” 

“These are great. Did you know burgers are Mr. Stark’s favorite food?” said Peter. 

“Legend has it that it was the first thing he asked for when he first got back to the U.S after he was kidnapped,” you answered. 

“Did you just say legend?” Peter followed up.

“It’s not like it’s wrong to.” 

“It’s not old enough to be a legend.” 

“He  _ is  _ a legend. A living legend. Anything he does could also be a legend.” 

“No, anything he does is legendary.” 

“Same thing!” you laughed. “You’re literally agreeing with me.” 

“No, I’m not! They’re different!” 

The legend himself butted into the conversation. “What are you two arguing about?” 

“If a man who is considered a legend does something, it is considered legendary. Therefore, the story about the thing he did is a legend. Right?” you insisted.

“That’s not how legends work!” Peter shouted, hands squishing his burger.

“That’s totally how they work!” you rebutted. “It is a logical conclusion that that’s how they work. Tell me I’m right.”

“Tell her she’s wrong!”

“She’s got a good argument,” sided Clint. 

“Yeah, Peter, I think she’s right on this one,” joined Steve. “It makes sense.” 

You gave Peter a satisfied grin as everyone else shrugged. “Do you concede?” 

“You’re all wrong,” he said instead. “It can only be a legend if it’s unverified history. And since it can be verified, it’s not a legend.” 

“Peter just doesn’t want to lose to me a second time,” you announced. 

“Second?” inquired Mr. Stark. 

Oh, you hadn’t told them. “He thought James was- Mmp!” Peter had slapped a hand over your mouth. 

“So, how was everyone’s day?” he asked loudly, as you clawed at his hand. 

“MMMP!” you protested. His grip wasn’t loosening. 

“Peter, let her go,” ordered Sam. Peter must’ve known when Sam meant no nonsense, because he did.

“I do not like being touched,” you hissed at him the minute he released you. “Please don’t do that  _ ever _ .” 

The oven chimed, just as Peter said “Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, sliding your chair back even though Steve had said he would retrieve them. “That’s the second batch though, I hope you’re all hungry for some more.” 

You grabbed the tray from the oven swiftly. Steve was giving you a look and you knew you needed to diffuse the situation. Through the tightness in your throat, you said “So, Peter, you know Pepper’s real name is Virginia, right?” 

“I’m not falling for that,” he said. “I get it, you were right the first time. Sargent Bucky’s real name is James.” 

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “No, Peter, I’m serious. Did you not know?” 

He turned to the woman in question who supplied “Pepper because of the freckles.” 

“What?! Who else?” 

“Happy’s real name is Harold,” said Tony. “Rhodey’s real name is James Rhodes.” 

“This is preposterous!” 

You were one of the handful who laughed as you set the now full plate of burgers back in its place. “Yeah, how’d you get Happy from Harold?” 

“I don’t think that’s how the joke goes,” chuckled Sam. 

Lunch passed in a flurry of jokes and stories, the incident between you and Peter seemingly forgotten. You were one of the last to leave the table, after you had helped clean up, and immediately went to shower. You had sweat quite a bit during your workout with Natasha, and now you were looking forward to enjoying another luxurious shower and spending some more time reading before coffee with James and Steve, and after that would be movie night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we discuss how y’all freaked out so much when I mentioned that I’m writing a chapter 55? XD XD Like, yeah, and I’m barely halfway through this story. I would not be surprised if this ends up being like.. Some crazy number of chapters long XD It should probably be 2 fics but IDK where I would end one so the other would begin and so we’re not doing that yet.
> 
> Did you guys get enough Bucky last chapter? Did you enjoy the time with Natasha and Steve? The subtle sign from Sam? Did you, did you, did you? I know this is childish excitement but I love you all so much, I want to know you liked it. 
> 
> Also: I went back to read my old comments and a couple of you changed you usernames/icons and I was like "Since when???" Anyways, I try to pay attention to who I'm talking to and who said what when. It can be a little tricky, but I love talking to all of you and reading your replies, so big big thanks if you've ever commented ❤❤❤ also, I do miss some of my old commenters, I hope you're all okay...


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you watch a movie.  
>  ~~Low-Key Ft. The Avengers (Ahem, Clint) behaving like a child.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I was supposed to have a funny/interesting note here but I took a benadryl and low key passed out for two hours so idk  
> Here's a pre-written AN:  
> I couldn’t sleep and I can’t help but to think it was because I didn’t write enough today (August 27th). Please enjoy this Fluffy chapter. This has 0 importance to the plot but… I just love it. We can have characters getting something good, right? ~~Before all the Tragedy I have planned.~~

You meandered over to the movie room at nine thirty, the time that had been planned for everyone to meet. You had outside clothes on still, not really sure what to expect, but were promptly escorted out by a pajama-clad Natasha. 

“Pepper and I bought you a matching set. Everyone else is in their pajamas so that means you have to get yours on too.” 

Which was why movie night started ten minutes late. Sort of. When you reentered, Clint and Mr. Stark were arguing over which movie to watch, which everyone assured you was totally normal. Peter helped you choose a blanket from the back cabinet and showed you all the snack options, pointing out your favorites in the meanwhile. Clint and Mr. Stark were still at it when you began to settle down with everyone else. You ended up near the edge of the room, but that was fine.

“You know what? Ace!” snapped Mr. Stark. You shot up in your spot on the couch, where you were sitting between Natasha and Peter. Tony smiled kindly. “Sorry, kiddo, didn’t mean to scare you. Could you name a movie with a historical background for us?” 

“Uh…” The first to come to mind were the obvious options: Titanic, The Great Gatsby, and Les Mis. But you knew that the movie you named would be what you watched, so you wracked your brain for another one. Something shorter. “Hidden Figures?” 

The answer appeared to satisfy the both of them.

“You heard the lady, Fri,” he declared, taking his seat beside Pepper. 

Movie night was the calmest you had seen everyone at once, comfortably sat with their candy and blankets. In fact, you were 90% sure that Dr. Banner was holding a teddy bear. Which reminded you… “Peter,” you whispered, nudging him. “We should get the gifts.” 

“What?” he whispered back. 

“Remember when we went shopping?” you hinted. 

“Oh,” he said softly when he connected the dots. “You go first. They’re by my desk.” 

You shuffled out the room quietly, happy that he was the only person you had to walk past to exit. You waited for Peter in between the doors to each of your rooms. 

He followed a few minutes later, his face beet red. “Come on, before they all start getting ideas.” 

“Wait, how are we going to give these to them?” you asked. “Just ‘hey, I thought you might like this?’” 

“Yeah. Why don’t we turn them all on first? So they can see them.” 

Well, it was certainly efficient. Or it would’ve been if you and Peter hadn’t started laughing the minute you re-entered. 

“You two better be keeping it G-rated back there,” said Mr. Stark. 

Peter held up the lit Iron Man plushie as he answered. “We aren’t doing anything, Mr. Stark.” 

“What is that?” he questioned. 

Peter tossed him the toy, and you took the cue to start with your bag. You handed Natasha hers first, with a light up red belt and blue lights on the hands and wrists. She accepted it with a smile as the rest of the team began to realize what was going on. 

Steve and James were the next ones you got from your bag, with James’ metal arm and the star on the Captain America toy’s shield alight. “Oh, goodness,” muttered Steve. “I cannot believe you got this.” 

James was more hesitant to accept his mini-me. “Why the hell would they make a toy out of me?” 

You shook the toy. “Cuz you’re an Avenger.” You placed the toy in front of your face and raised the pitch of your voice. “Please take me, Jamie, I don’t want to be lonely.” 

“Kids these days,” he scoffed, but took it from you. You pretended that you didn’t notice James and Steve trade, or the way James had set them up beside each other. 

The last weight in your bag was the Spider-Man plushie. You still hadn’t met the hero, unless your suspicions about Peter were right.

“I see Thor’s not around. Spider-Man’s not either,” you whispered, holding up the toy as you met in front of the snacks once more.

“I think he’d want you to have his,” he answered after a second. “Spider-Man. I’ll make sure Thor gets this.” There was a small click when the lightning bolt designs on the hammer stopped glowing, and Peter set it down by the snacks. 

“You really don’t think Spider-Man would want this?” you inquired. 

“Nah,” whispered Peter. “He uh, doesn’t need the ego boost. You should take it. Seriously, he... he’s got enough merch.” 

“Yeah, the prank on your bedroom,” you remembered. You smiled down at the light-up toy. “This is cute, though.” 

“Just take it. I could always get him another, and he’d want you to have it.” He rubbed at his neck with his free hand.

Well, if Peter was planning to get another... “Fine. Come on we’re missing the movie.” You grabbed his hand and led him back to the seats you had abandoned. 

You pulled your blanket up to wrap around your shoulders, hugging your new toy. If you and Peter were sitting closer together, neither of you were bothered by it. Peter was on one side of you and the Avengers were chilling on the other. You cozied up in your blanket, with your new plushie in one hand and the other laying centimeters away from Peter’s. 

When keeping your eyes open felt like an impossible task a half hour later, you chose not to go to bed. You’d just close your eyes for a bit and listen to the movie. You’d get up when it finished. It was only for a minute, you’d keep watching the movie after that. You snuggled into your blanket a bit more and pulled the toy in your hand closer to your chest. You’d get up from the cozy blanket when the movie finished. That was a great plan.

* * *

Natasha was the first to notice the change in the teens beside her. So of course, she kicked Clint to get his attention when the movie looked close to ending. 

“What was that for?” 

Natasha gestured to her other side, pressing back to her seat so he could see around her.

_ Are they asleep? _ he signed in the dim light the movie provided.

Natasha nodded.  _ For the past 20 minutes, _ she signed back. 

“Tony!” whisper-shouted Clint. “You’re right, they are sleeping together.” 

The sound of choked coughs filled the air along with several ‘ _ What? _ ’s. “Sh, guys, you’re gonna wake them up!” said Natasha. The energy died down as they realized they’d been played. 

“Clint, you absolute bird-brain. I already have a heart condition, are you trying to kill me?” hissed Tony, tossing a box of candy at the archer’s head. Clint caught it with a grin. 

The sound of the candies rattling stirred the teens and both shifted as the rest of the room held their breaths. Y/n’s head ended up relaxing on Peter’s shoulder and Peter wrapped his arm around her waist to accommodate her. 

“Tony, where's my phone?” demanded Pepper quietly, searching the blankets around her as the credits rolled.

“Why do you need it?” 

“Because they’re adorable and I want to send a picture to May,” she answered. “Aha.” She held the device victoriously and snapped a quick picture.

“So are we just going to leave them to sleep there?” asked Tony.

“Why not?” answered Natasha. “We’ve all fallen asleep here at some point.” 

“But they’re teenagers. Alone.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Teenagers who just bought us all plushies. What do you want, Tony, a giant sleepover?” 

“Why not?” suggested Clint. “We’ve got blankets, pillows, snacks, and personalized cuddle buddies.” He held up the Hawkeye toy with a glowing arrow and arrow holster. “And we’re all in our jammies.” 

“I’m in,” seconded Tony, looking to Pepper for approval. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she sighed. “Fine.”

Bruce shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like tomorrow is anything special.” 

Steve and James shared a long look. Neither of them had had nightmares for months. Were they willing to risk being in the type of space that everyone would hear them if they did? “We’ll pass,” decided Bucky, picking up his blanket and mini-Captain America as he rose. “Have fun.” 

Sam was the last one to make a choice, lounging in his beanbag chair. “Yeah, whatever, it’s pretty comfy here.” 

After a chorus of ‘good night’s and the departure of two supersoldiers, FRIDAY dimmed the lights so they were barely visible, and the Avengers settled in for the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I published two one-shots this week and they’re both super fluffy because I desperately want to write and publish and I decided to try my hand at one-shots. Feel free to check em out  
> They were "fresh off the press" posted, though, so the quality is like, nonexistent. But they're cute.  
> Also, I low key forget nothing in this fic. 😂😂


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you meet a norse god.  
> Mild TW: PTSD dream, Panic Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE: PART ONE because I see some of you missing the fact that there's a second chapter...😂😂  
> Instead of facing my anxiety about my stats exam that's due at 9 pm that I didn't study for at all, I'm here   
> Avoidance is a terrible coping mechanism, I know. 
> 
> I hope you didn’t think I forgot about Loki, btw. Some of you guys are might hate me after this, though.

_ It was dark. You were watching a movie on the tablet in front of you. _

_ “The volume is a bit loud,” said your mom from the driver’s seat. “Turn it down, please.” _

_ But something about it all wasn’t right. You blinked. Where’d the tablet go?  _

_ “Y/n/n?” She turned to face you. “I said turn it down.”  _

_ No. No no no, this is where it all went wrong. “Mom no, look at the road!” The light was bright. You could feel the tightening of your seatbelt. _

_ You opened your eyes and suddenly you were no longer in the car. You were in your room. Your dad was behind you, one hand clasped over your mouth. “Shut up! Shut up already! It’s been years! She’s gone! Gone! Gone!” He grabbed you by your waist and tossed you off the bed. _

You woke up gasping, the word  _ gone _ echoing in your ears. The first thing you saw was the Spider-Man plushie and the blanket you had been using, both of which had fallen to the ground. Your head swivelled around the room, taking in your position. You had fallen asleep on Peter’s shoulder and his arm was wrapped around you. You carefully removed it and picked up your things. Hopefully you hadn’t woken up anyone.

“FRIDAY, what time is it?” you yawned once you reached the hallway. 

“Four forty-seven A.M, Miss y/l/n.”

“Damn, it’s early.” 

You spent a few seconds stretching as you faced the door to the library. You finished your book last night before the movie. You slinked into the space, still in awe of its size. You spent some more time perusing the shelves during this visit. As far as you were aware, everyone was asleep in the movie room right now, and no one would come to see if you were in your room or anything like that. 

While looking through a series from one of your favorite authors, you heard someone turn a page. You made your way around the shelf in front of you to see a man with long, raven colored locks reading in front of a barely crackling fireplace. Your mouth fell open upon recognition, the air leaving your lungs. 

He did a double take when he caught sight of you. You met his green eyes and stumbled half a step back. The silence between you two was palpable as you tightened your grip on the Spider-Man toy. 

He was the first to recover from his shock. He shut his book slowly, his finger marking his spot between the pages. “I must say, I’m surprised you haven’t screamed yet.” 

_ Why the hell does he sound british?  _ You took a quick breath. “I’m not a very loud person,” you stated, “and I was taught not to shout in a library. Are you supposed to be here?”

“I was never told I wasn’t allowed to be in here. Are you?” he countered. 

“Floating in the same boat,” you expressed. “FRIDAY, do the Avengers know he’s in the tower?”

“Yes, Miss y/l/n. He arrived two days before your first visit.” 

So he’s been around, you just never met him. “Cool, cool. Just let them sleep, then.” 

“As you wish, Miss.” 

The norse god in front of you raised an eyebrow. “You are oddly comfortable in my presence as not to alert them.”

“Not the phrasing I’d use. I just doubt mass panic would answer anything. Why are you here?”

He held up the book in his hand. “Same reason as you I’d presume. To read.” 

“No, why are  _ you _ , a norse god who tried to take over the world from this tower,  _ here _ , in said tower?” you clarified. “Is the prison sentence for world domination only seven years or something? I think some more people would try it, if that’s the case.” 

His laugh was far from humored. “Witty. I like you. Lady y/l/n, was it?”

You crossed your arms in front of you defensively. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Are you this blunt with everyone or do I just get special treatment?”

The corners of your mouth twitched down at the attempt at distracting you. “I don’t talk this much with many other people so pick your answer.”

“And tell me, are you usually this fearless?”

“That’s not the term I’d use. And no, I have a lot of fears, you’re just not one of them.” 

He gave you a hard look at the statement. “Everything you just said is true.” 

“I’ve read about you. Lying to the god of lies would be unproductive. Are you going to answer the question?”

“Mischief and Chaos, actually, not just lies.” He grabbed a bookmark from the table beside him. “I am here until such a time that Asgard can be rebuilt and I can be retried for my crimes against your race.” 

You gave him a wide berth as you shuffled to a cushioned chair next to the fireplace, directly across from his.  _ Ah, warm. _ “Huh. Okay then.”

“You’re accepting it? Just like that?”

You shrugged carelessly. “I’m too tired to think about it that much. I’ve read enough conspiracy theories, so yeah, I accept it. I’m also relatively sure that FRIDAY would put out a red alert if you tried anything.” 

“Accurate observation, Miss y/l/n.” 

“See? Or hear, I guess. Hey, how come you’re never around for meals?” you questioned, basking in the glow of the fireplace. “I haven’t seen you once before this. Other than on the news.”

“I’m not exactly welcomed. It’s been made clear to me that I’m a prisoner, not a guest.”

That sounded lonely. Rather depressing, considering his freedom to move about. “Well, do you want breakfast?” you offered, stretching out in an effort to wake up. “I can make a mean omelette.”

“Why would I want an omelette that offends me?”

You chuckled at his misinterpretation. So he might sound british, but he certainly wasn’t from around. “It’s slang. I can make a really, really good omelette if you’d like to have breakfast.” You sank further into your chair even as you made the offer. “Do you even eat breakfast?”

“Occasionally, yes. Why are you offering? What do you get out of this?” 

“I dunno, some company? Satisfaction of the Avengers’ shock when they find us in the kitchen? A reason to make some food?” you rattled off. “Does there have to be something? Maybe you just sound lonely and I’m nice enough to make you less lonely. Also, I love cooking.”

“Perhaps later then. I’ve become invested in the book I’m reading and would like to finish the chapter you interrupted,” he decided.

“What’re you reading?” 

“ _ Just Mercy _ by Bryan Stevenson,” he replied, flipping the book open.

“Oh, I love the title,” you shared. “There’s two ways to interpret it. Just as is only and just as in justice.”

“Yes, I noticed that as well. Have you read it before?”

“It was assigned reading last year for school. I finished it in a week.”

“A whole week? I don’t understand how anyone could ever set a work like this down.”

You sighed, pushing the chair so it would face the fire some more. “Well, if you went to school eight hours a day, worked for another three, had five hours of homework a night, and had to cook and eat and stuff like that, and had family matters to deal with, you’d be hard pressed to find time to pick up a book too.”

“Point taken,” he admitted as you moved. “Did you like it?”

You rested your head on one arm rest, allowing your legs to dangle over the other. “I stayed up all night trying to finish it, so I guess you could say that, yeah.”

He gave an appraising hum and returned to his reading. 

You spent some time just watching the fire crackle before growing bored. “You should read it aloud.” 

“Why?”

“Because your voice is kinda nice when you’re not trying to enslave humanity,” you acknowledged, finally giving in and sinking into the couch. Breakfast could wait, he had said so himself. “And because you caught my attention before I could pick out a book for myself and I’m too comfy to get up right now.”

You looked up at him when he didn’t reply. He was staring at you with a blank expression. “Thank you,” he said softly. He then began to read from the sentence he had left off on. 

The atmosphere in the room was oddly serene. Not what you would have expected for a genocidal maniac, but maybe the rumors were true and he  _ was  _ mind controlled. Or maybe it was because you were too tired to notice anything off about the situation. Nevertheless, here he was, reading to you. Much to your surprise, he did voices when he read different people, and your lips twitched upwards with the realization. 

“Chapter ten,” he began.

“Ah ah,” you voiced, eyes slowly blinking open. “You’ve finished the chapter. Breakfast?” 

“I thought you had fallen asleep,” he said. 

You sat up in your seat with a small grunt. “Not my fault. I was awake. Just relaxed. Seriously though, it’s time for breakfast.” You made your way towards the exit. When he didn’t follow, you looked back. He was still seated, staring down at the next chapter. “You can read while I cook, come on.” 

He rose slowly and followed you out to the kitchen. The time on the stove read 5:34 A.M. The god stood around awkwardly as you began to busy yourself.

“So, what do you want in your omelette?” you asked as you peered into the fridge. You retrieved the carton of eggs and looked through the vegetables, freshly restocked since you had made lunch the day before. You flexed your hand as you caught sight of it. The refrigerator lights illuminated the light bruising and scratches left by the punching bag. You hadn’t noticed it before, other than the slight soreness they had brought about. You continued your rummaging. “We’ve got tomatoes, spinach, mushrooms, potatoes, bell peppers… Pretty much any vegetable you can think of from the looks of it. Cheese, too.” 

“Erm…” The god looked totally lost. “Spinach and Mushrooms, please.” 

You searched the kitchen for the pans as you questioned him further. “Cheese or no? Swiss goes pretty well.” 

“Very well then, I’ll have it with cheese.” He watched as you made your way around the kitchen, having to open a few different drawers and cabinets before you found everything you needed. 

A few minutes later, the omelette was sizzling in the pan and Loki had yet to say another word. “Have you never seen someone cook or something?” you asked, preparing ingredients for your own omelette. “I thought you wanted to read.”

“I apologize if I was staring, I was lost in thought.” 

He continued to stand around as you put together his plate and grabbed a fork for him. “Here-” you words got caught as you tripped over nothing. Loki reached out to steady you. The flashbacks started and you quickly snatched your arms from him.

You set the plate down onto the counter against the counter with a harsh clatter as Loki asked “Are you alright?”

“Do not pretend that wasn’t intentional,” you said coldly. “I’ve read enough about norse mythology to know what just happened. You had no right to do that.” 

“Miss y/l/n? Should I awake the others?”   
  
“No,” you snapped towards the ceiling. Your furious eyes stared at him as they began to sting. “What do you know? Don’t try and play me, I know you saw something because I did too.” 

“Not what I was looking for,” he muttered in admittance. 

That was all the answer you needed. If he said anything about your father to the team… That would be awful. And embarrassing. “You-  _ You had no right _ .” 

“I am deeply sorry.” If he weren’t the god of lies, you might’ve believed him. 

This was not what you needed. “I was really ready to believe you weren’t that bad,” you said. “Honestly. I was  _ trying _ to be nice to you, I was telling you the truth this whole time, you would’ve known if I lied or wanted to hide something, and if I did want to hide something then maybe it wasn’t any of your  _ damn business _ to be knowing it!” 

The lack of your shouting revealed the sound of several pairs of feet making their way to the kitchen. You tried to get a hold of yourself. If they found out what Loki had discovered… You didn’t want to know how disappointed they’d be. 

Natasha was the first to speak. “Get the hell away from her.” 

Loki took several steps back from you, hands held high. His head was downcast and his lips pursed. 

“Y/n? You alright?” checked Clint. 

_ Dammit. This is a mess _ . “I’m fine,” you ground out. “FRIDAY, I told you to let them sleep.” 

“I apologize, Miss, but you appeared to be in distress.” 

Dr. Banner carefully asked “What happened?” 

“Loki found out something personal through a rather intrusive method is all.” You swiped under your eyes quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Loki…” began Dr. Banner. 

“No,” said Mr. Stark. “No. I know that tone. We are not talking this out. He obviously crossed a line here. The cuffs go back on. Now. We never should’ve taken them off.” 

He stalked across the space between himself and the kitchen, retrieving a set of bracelets from a drawer before slamming it shut. Or attempting to, at least. Some sort of slow shut mechanism had allowed it to close quietly. You flinched at the motion regardless and Mr. Stark paused just long enough to glance over at you and then back to the god in front of him. He closed the space quickly. “Hands.” 

Loki obeyed the order and Mr. Stark snapped a bracelet - or cuff, as he had called it - around each wrist. 

“I truly am sorry,” he repeated, facing you one more. 

“You don’t get to talk to her,” said Mr. Stark. “Move it.” 

You didn’t know where he was taking Loki, but as long as you were away from him you didn’t care. Damn intrusive gods.

“Y/n?” Peter. Great. He was probably judging you so much right now. Everyone probably was.

To make matters worse, Steve and James had entered as well. “Everything alright?” asked the former. “FRIDAY sent out an alert while we were about to go on our run, we passed Tony and Loki when we were getting out of the elevator.”

“Everything’s fine. Does anyone want breakfast? I was just making omelettes.” 

There was a pregnant pause and you could almost hear what they were thinking. “I am fine. I don’t want to talk about it. Now, does anyone want an omelette?”

“It’s a bit early for breakfast but I’ll help cook,” said Sam. “You cook in the team’s kitchen, you cook for the whole team, after all.” 

The elephant in the room was practically suffocating you as you and Sam cooked side by side. “Y/n?” This time, it was Clint requesting your attention. “Mind if we talk for a bit?” He nodded over to the hallway leading towards the bedrooms and you shrugged, sliding some chopped peppers into a bowl before following him out.

“I know Loki,” he began, “and I know he can get into your head, really get into your head. I know how it feels. I just want to know what happened.” 

“He took a glance through my memories. That was it. I pushed him away before he did anything else. I just… felt violated.” 

He accepted the statement and moved on. “Okay. Natasha said she never got the chance to talk to you about those extra training sessions.” 

“Not really, no.” 

“Would you want them? They’re your choice, but considering you’ve been coming around here pretty often…” 

Your mind tried to fill in what he was insinuating. “You think someone would be watching me?” 

“It’s not impossible.” 

You ran a hand through your hair. This was exactly what you didn’t need; the extra fear of having to constantly watch your back and glance around every corner. “I guess I’ll take you up on that offer. Not today though, I’m leaving after breakfast.” 

“That’s pretty early,” he frowned. “You’re not staying for a bit?” 

You shook your head. “I stayed long enough. It’s been the whole weekend already. My father’s been on a trip, so it was fine, but he could be returning at any time today. The earlier I’m home the better.” 

Clint took a moment before he nodded. “We should be getting back to the group. But come around in a couple of days, would you? Or we’ll come check on you.” 

“I’ll keep in touch,” you promised on your way back, certain that they really would check in if you didn’t. 

You helped Sam dish up breakfast with a type of fatigue you hadn’t experienced in a while. The type that settled down in your bones and made every movement feel like a monumental task, the type that you knew sleep wouldn’t fix, the type that made you lose all motivation. 

It was not the first time in your life you were fatigued in a way that reached into the innermost corners of your soul and ached. However, this time was different. This time, unlike any other time, you wanted nothing more than to be greeted by your familiar bed and your warm room and some decent sleep and the near solitude that living with only one other person provided.

This time, for the first time, you just wanted to go home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this chapter in practically one go… Not the turn I was expecting tbh, I saw it though and I was like “Woah. Where did you come from? She was supposed to get along with Loki????” and then my mind went “ahaha, but this is so much better.” This hurt me tho. This did hurt me. I’m sorry. Loki comes back tho, I promise <3


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony gifts a mug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: This is the second chapter.

Tony walked Loki back to his brother’s chambers. “What did you do to her?” he demanded. 

“I barely touched her,” defended Loki. Regardless, he had obviously ruined his current standing with the Avengers. And he had decimated any chance of a friendship with the only person who had been kind to him, with the exception of the spider boy. 

“Yeah, and she was crying by the time we left. I won’t ask again,” Tony threatened. “I can make sure those cuffs do a hell of a lot more damage than what they’re capable of right now.” 

Loki didn’t really want to explore that possibility. They already put a hold on his magic, and he barely felt like himself because of it. “I may have gone through some of her memories.” 

The anger in Tony’s eyes was joined by a flicker of concern. “Why?” 

That was the question, wasn’t it? Why  _ had  _ he done that? “She was hiding something.” 

“Oh and you just thought that the best way to find out was to invade her mind?” snarked Tony. He huffed angrily. “And pray tell, did you enjoy what you found? Anything interesting?” 

“Believe it or not, Stark, I meant it when I apologized to her,” Loki sniped back before softly answering “And no, I did not enjoy what I found, but it is not my business to share it.”

“New York has mandated reporting. Your business or not, if she’s in danger, someone needs to know about it and get her out of the situation,” Tony informed him. 

Loki clenched his teeth together. Even if he wanted to say something, he couldn’t, for more than one reason. Mortal laws meant nothing in comparison to the laws of magic. Anything he saw, he couldn’t share unless the person had willingly said it or he had made the observation himself. The reason was that he simply didn’t have the information. “She pushed me away before I got any details out of it,” he disclosed. “The only thing I can say is: she doesn’t enjoy being touched for good reason.” 

* * *

Tony looked into the distance as he processed the information. That could mean anything. He wet his lips before he spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, we kind of already thought so.” With those words, Tony departed for his lab.

The first thing to catch Tony’s eye was a mug, currently white in color, engraved with  _ I see the assassins have failed _ . He should give it to y/n before she leaves. At least it would solve one problem. 

He took it without a second thought and made his way back up to the main kitchen, where he found many of his teammates already eating. The expression y/n wore tugged at Tony’s heartstrings. No teenager should ever look that weary. 

“Glad to see you haven’t packed up, Ace. I uh, have something I wanted to give you.” He held up the empty mug. “Barnes said you collect ‘em, so he gave me a little project to work on.” 

She gave him a confused smile. “Uh, yeah, thanks.” She read the inscription before turning it to Bucky. “Would you look at that? He got the sarcastic remarks right on.” 

“I told you, he’s good at it,” smiled Bucky. “Although I must admit, I’m a bit upset that he had to choose  _ that _ , considering who’s all here.”

She chuckled lightly and set it down. “Thank you, both.”

“You haven’t even seen the best part about it!” announced Tony. “Go ahead, try it out, fill it up with something.” 

She raised her eyebrows. “Okay?” She went to fill it up with water from the sink and Tony watched eagerly. 

“Nothing Tony ever makes is only what it looks like,” said Steve. “He’s always gotta improve something.” 

She screwed the lid onto the mug when it was full.

“Press the button on the side,” Tony guided. She searched the cup and pressed once she found it. Within seconds, the cup was turning light blue. 

“Woah,” she commented. “Nice.” 

“Pour something else in it. Like coffee,” he suggested. 

She emptied the water down the drain and waited as the coffee brewed. “What, does it change color based on temperature?”

“Yes and no. Darker colors means it’s hot, lighter colors means it’s cold,” he explained.

She glanced between Tony and the mug. “What’s the no for then?”

“It does more than that.” 

She looked at Bucky in askance. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know that much about it,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “It’s Stark’s thing.” 

“You’re the one who gave him the project,” she pointed out, pouring the drink to fill it about half way. 

“Just press the button again and I’ll explain,” said Tony. Hopefully she’d take the news of its purpose well. She obeyed and the cup turned a dark brown, just the way Tony knew it would. “Every time you press the button, the cup scans its contents and compares it to the list of drinks I’ve pre-uploaded.” 

“So if I put lemonade in this it’ll change colors?” 

“Lemonade is mostly water, so it might default to that. Apple juice and orange juice work. Hot chocolate, too. You can try stuff out on your own, have some fun with it.” 

“Neat,” she said, raising the cup to inspect it. Tony saw the gleam of curiosity enter her eyes. He’d seen that determined look in his lab only a few times before and he glowed at the change of expression. “How does this work?” 

Tony rocked back on his heels excitedly. “Nanotech and chemistry. There’s more, though.” 

“How is there more? It’s a mug!” she protested. 

Now how did Tony want to say this? “Drinks aren’t the only thing programmed into that. There’s a pretty long list of things that would make the entire cup turn black, which would be your sign to get out of wherever you’re at. Let’s just say it should help you avoid another incident like the one from Friday.” 

“Oh.” Her face was filled with a contemplative look. “Thank you,” she said softly. “To everyone. You guys have all been so great this whole weekend.” 

“Okay, this is getting a bit too mushy,” responded Natasha. “It’s fine. We enjoyed your company, feel free to come over whenever. Now let's have breakfast before all this food gets cold.”

Tony took his seat beside Pepper, smiling as they linked hands. Now he just had to solve the other problem. All things in time, however, and for now he’d just take the moments as they came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a surprise for you all next week. I know you’re going to like it :D I’m so happy I can do it because it’s great.   
> And y'all were so eager for some more Tony.... Does this satisfy you?


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you attend a barbeque.  
>  **TRIPLE UPDATE WARNING:** Pt. 1 of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot to mention last week that I uploaded a Picrew so now y'all have an idea of my Vibes!! I mean, you probably already had an idea of my vibes from the story and notes and my replies, but now you can enjoy staring at something more unique than my basic AO3 icon.
> 
> And yes, that does say triple :D

You were looking through your closet, trying to figure out what you’d wear that weekend for the small 4th of July gathering at the precinct, when Peter called. You rolled your eyes and answered. He’d been asking you about the same thing for the last three days. “Peter, I said no.” 

“Oh, come on, you don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to invite me to the 4th of July party that Mr. Stark is hosting on Thursday,” you deadpanned.

“Okay, so maybe you did know, but hear me out,” he said quickly. “I came up with something else. Well, not me, Mr. Stark, but you don’t have to come to the party. Just come over. We’ll have lunch on the deck, us and the team.” 

A smile made its way onto your face as you considered it. It’d been a couple of weeks since the end of the school year, and while you had visited the tower, you usually stayed beside Peter for the duration of your visit. You two had even been hanging out with Ned and MJ outside the tower. It’d be nice to spend more time with the team. And it wasn’t exactly a party, just lunch. “What time?”

“Be here by eleven?” 

“I guess I can fit it into my schedule.” 

“Great! I’ll see you then.” 

“Bye, Peter.”

“Bye.” 

You ended the call and went back to looking through your closet. What did you have that you could wear to a barbeque..?

* * *

You had ended up choosing a flowy, knee length dress and a denim jacket as your outfit, paired with sandals and your favorite seashell necklace. It was Thursday, the Fourth of July. In your hand was a small envelope containing the gift card you’d gotten for Steve after James had confirmed that it was actually (hilariously) Steve’s birthday. 

**_You:_ ** _ Hi Peter! Are you here yet or should I wait? _

“Hello, Miss y/l/n,” greeted FRIDAY as you waited for a response. It came a moment later as FRIDAY said “It’s been requested that I show you up.”

There was a click at the door and you opened it with a muttered “Okay then…” as you read Peter’s text confirming what FRIDAY had said. The button for the main floor was already glowing when you walked into the elevator.

“Everyone is outside already, the door is just past the living room,” FRIDAY informed you as the elevator rose. 

“Oh, ok. Thanks.” 

You followed her directions to the glass double doors, which were both open and bringing a slight breeze into the tower. You could see everyone easily. Sam and James were at the grill and everyone else was sitting around a large, shaded table. 

“Uh, hi everyone.” You gave them a small wave as you walked towards the group. 

There was a scattering of enthusiastic greetings. 

“You look nice,” said Peter. “May, this is y/n. Y/n, this is my Aunt May.”

“Ah, the history partner, right? Feel free to call me May. I’ve heard a lot about you,” she said, rising from her seat. 

You looked to Peter nervously. “All good things, I hope?” you asked, shaking her hand. 

“Yes, of course. Come, have a seat.” 

“Yeah, uh...” You turned to Steve and held out the envelope. “Happy Birthday, by the way.” 

“Thank you,” he accepted respectfully. “You really shouldn’t have.” 

“It’s no biggie.” You took a seat beside Peter and tucked a lock of hair back. “So how old are you now?” 

He sighed. “Depending on the way you look at it, I’m either thirty-five or a hundred and one.” 

“And you don’t look a day over twenty-three,” grinned Mr. Stark. “Do you want anything to drink, Ace? Lemonade, fruit punch, water, soda, anything?” 

You blinked and a picture of Flash, soda in hand, came to mind. “I’ll pass, thanks,” you said, smiling tightly.

“So, do you have any plans for tonight? Since you’re not attending our little party,” Mr. Stark asked as he retrieved something from the cooler beside him.

“I’ve got an overtime shift today,” you said. “I’m a waitress at a grill in lower Manhattan, it’s called The Great Dane. They’ve got really good brownies, if you ever go. And burgers and steak, too; the place is amazing.” 

“Really?” asked Mr. Stark. “It sounds familiar.” 

“Clint and I brought brownies back from them once,” said Natasha. “When we were late for game night a couple of months ago. Really good food, I might have to visit again.” 

You realized that the archer wasn’t sitting anywhere nearby. “Yeah, I’ll get you an employee discount. Where is Clint?” you wondered. 

“He’s got some stuff to take care of,” said Mr. Stark nonchalantly. 

You accepted the answer and continued with the small talk as food came off of the grill and onto the table. There were plenty of grilled meats and veggies. Fragrant bell peppers, juicy steaks, burgers and hotdogs, chicken kebabs, skewers of cut veggies and grape tomatoes… The food seemed to be endless as everyone ate and talked. You quickly learned that you’d have to take something for yourself if you wanted it and that food disappeared as fast as it could be cooked - mostly the fault of the super soldiers and Peter. 

“Alright,” you said, after you had your fill and the conversation began to dwindle. “Thank you all for having me, but I should get going.” 

There were a couple of protests, but you shut them down with a smile and polite “No, really, I’ve gotta go. May, it was nice to meet you. Steve, I hope you enjoy your birthday.” 

“Nice meeting you too, sweetie.” 

“Thanks,” said Steve. “Coffee on sunday?” He held up the King’s Brew gift card between his fingers. 

You hadn’t seen him open the envelope. “Four o’clock?” 

“See you then, Angel.” 

“Sure thing. Bye everyone,” you said cheerily. 

Peter stood from his chair as everyone else said their goodbyes. “I’ll walk you down,” he offered. 

You bit your lip in an effort to control your blushing grin and tilted your head towards the exit to show your agreement. You walked towards the elevator together. “You know you don’t have to do this,” you said. “I can walk myself out, I’ve been around here enough times.” 

“Yeah, well… I like walking with you. Besides, there’s no reason for you to be lonely.” 

You nodded. The grin on your face would hurt if you kept at it for much longer. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

The ride down was filled with silent glances towards each other. Neither of you spoke until you reached the doors. 

He held the exit open for you. “Happy fourth of July,” he wished. 

“Yeah, you too,” you returned as you left. 

Happy fourth of July. Well, with a start like that, it certainly was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good little bit of positivity. Your weekly dose of it. Really short, really sweet… just gonna leave this here, let it exist.


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you decrypt a file.  
>  **TRIPLE UPDATE WARNING:** Pt. 2 of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know ANYTHING about coding. I literally can’t even make a skin on this site to make the font in the fics 25% larger… anyways, here’s my guess at how it works….  
> (also...Every ending for this chapter just felt wrong. I had to re-write it like 4 times.)  
> ALSO: the fact that I managed to fit a mug quote that was somehow low-key relevant to events in the chapter??? Amazing!  
> Speaking of mug quotes: SSA_Arrowverse asked where I get them, and as I replied to the comment, most of them are from Pinterest. It was very fun searching for them.

It had been a few weeks since school had ended, which happened to be the same time that summer courses began. You had chosen one class, economics, simply to get the requirement out of the way. Given that you had the time and energy, you enjoyed biking to and from school for class. 

You still hadn’t figured out what big project you wanted to work on that summer. One option was certainly your bike, but that would put it out of commission for as long as the project took to complete. Another was getting that coding program to be successful. You had worked on it as much as possible during the semester, and even though it wasn’t a total success, your efforts and the level of your work had earned you an A- in the class. A third option was getting started on the packet Mr. Downey had sent you home with. 

The problems were significantly more difficult than anything you’d seen in class, especially towards the end, going far in depth in all types of physics and even farther into theoreticals. The back of the packet had an address for you to send the final answers to. Mr. Downey explained that he had been giving you problems from some sort of private scholarship during the school year, which meant a third of the work was already done, but there was still quite a bit left. 

You made your way out towards your bike, thinking over what to focus on. It was only 11 a.m., so you had plenty of time left in the day. When you made it out, the first thing you did was set your travel mug - which read  _ I solemnly swear a lot _ on a Marauder's Map background - into the cup holder. Your phone buzzed as you unlocked your bike from the rack. 

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ You busy? _

There was just over a week and a half until Peter, Ned, and MJ, all left for Europe, so you spent time with them while you could. Just the day before, you had all gone out for sandwiches at a place in Queens called Delmar’s, and you had set up plans for ice cream on the day before they left. 

**_You:_ ** _ Summer class just finished, I was about to bike home _

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ Wanna come over? _

You mulled over the question, weighing the pros and cons. On the one hand, time with Peter, Mr. Stark, and possibly Steve and James. On the other, Natasha would likely subject you to a training session and you’d have to bike home, and then you’d have work after that. Then again, it’s not like you had anything else to do today.  _ Are there bike racks at the tower? _ You assumed there would be, but you’d never seen them. You sat in place for a minute, waiting for an answer.

**_History Buddy:_ ** _ FRIDAY says they’re on the other side of the building from our entrance but Mr. Stark says you could bring your bike up if you want to instead? _

That was a pretty good offer. Maybe you’d be able to show Mr. Stark the adjustments you’d made to it.  _ Be there in 20 :)  _

You settled your helmet over your head and tossed your phone into the cinch bag you had on before rolling your bike away from the bike racks. You took some time to admire the work you’d done. It had only been a year and a half since you bought the bike for a mere $90. With the updates you had given it though, it was probably double in worth. A nifty cup holder, new inner tubes and tires, and new handle grips. 

Really, almost everything was new. The only things left of the original bike were the frame and the rims of the wheels, and even those had been changed: you had removed the rust off the frame and repainted it, adding in some embellishments to make it look nice. Meanwhile, the wheels had been adjusted ever so slightly to support the new spokes. All in all, your bike was entirely yours and one of your most valuable possessions. 

You quickly began your travel. You enjoyed the cool wind in your face right until it sent you a lungful of exhaust fumes. Ten minutes after the drop in your mood and you were rolling to a stop next to the entrance. Peter propped the door open for you. “Hey. Nice ride.” 

“I know.” You smiled down at your bike. The fruit of your labor. “I put a lot of work into it.” You told Peter about all the adjustments you’d made as you rode up the elevator and even showed him a picture of the bike from before. 

You were still explaining how you had adjusted the wheels and the calculations that had gone into it all when you walked into Mr. Stark’s lab. You paused for a polite hello and kept on with your explanation of everything and anything on your bike as Peter asked you some questions. 

“Anyways, where was I going with this?” You stopped your excited rambling to collect your thoughts. “Oh, yeah, remember when you asked me about that one physics question a while ago? This was why I knew how to answer it.” 

“This is so cool!” said Peter. He was kneeling beside your bike, inspecting the spokes closely. “Are you thinking about adding anything else?” 

You made a considerate hum. “I mean, I was thinking I’d add a motor, but that’d take a while to get all the parts, and plan it out, and put it together. I should add lights, too,” you realized. “Other than this one on top. I tend to ride my bike home from work and I don’t know if cars really see me at night. I almost got hit a couple months ago while it was raining. I managed to go over the curb and  _ nothing  _ even happened to the wheels, though! Not a dent! I wasn’t expecting to test how they’d take impact because I was pretty nervous, but at least I know now, even if I ended up falling onto the sidewalk.” 

“Well, yeah, with the reinforcements you made, that makes sense,” said Peter. “You certainly built it for more than the bare minimum.”

“That doesn’t mean you should test it again,” said Mr. Stark strictly, “and yes, lights. Can we just rewind a bit? How much of this did you say you did at school?” 

“Like, eighty-five percent,” you guessed. “Most of the time I start a project at home and finish it at school. Kinda sucked last summer cuz I had to wait for a while to do work on the gears and chain and school was just starting up so I had to figure everything out. The teachers are really good about it, though, we get along well. I order most of my own supplies, so I’m really only ever there for the tools and equipment.” 

“Huh,” he enunciated. “Well, if you’ve got any plans for the future, this space is available for your use.” 

It took a beat for your mind to process. “Wait, what?” Did Tony Stark just offer to let you use his lab? 

“I’ve said before, you can do a lot at that school of yours, but you can do even more here. I can get anything you’d want, you wouldn’t need to get your own stuff anymore. Do your parents help you with any of this?” 

You were so shocked that you answered the question automatically. “It’s just me and the- my father. He… He doesn’t know about it. Are you sure about letting me be here though? Really, you don’t have to.”

Mr. Stark’s expression was relatively neutral as he explained “Yeah, I’m positive. I’m gonna need some company while Pete’s away.”

“Aw, Mr. Stark, are you gonna miss me?” teased Peter. 

“Don’t make me regret saying it,” he answered, tossing a spare hex nut in Peter’s direction. Peter caught it. 

“Wait, so, like, I dunno, am I gonna be helping out while Peter’s gone? Because I can’t just accept free access here, sir, I have to pay you back somehow.” 

He tapped at the keyboard in front of him. “Nah. But, if you really want, if you can figure out how to decrypt this file, I’ll give you your own key to the tower.” 

You must’ve looked like a comic book character from the shock on your face. There was no way he was being honest. “Really?”

“You can check this out and I’ll get a chance to check out your handiwork. Win-win.” 

You exchanged spots with him and began looking through the code when suddenly it changed. “Could it be encrypted in real time?” you thought aloud. 

“No, it’s disconnected from the source. Why? Did it change again?” 

So he knew about that part then. “Yeah,” you sighed. “Any chance that it’s just switched out with another version? Same thing in a different language? Has it ever repeated?” 

“Not that I can tell. FRIDAY says it’s set to change every thirty minutes.” That would be difficult to deal with. 

Peter had wandered off to mess with something over in his corner by the time you glanced up to see what Mr. Stark would be doing. From the looks of it, he was leaving your bike assembled, so that was good. 

“FRIDAY, are there any similarities between them? Patterns?” You scrolled through, eyes searching for anything that could jump out at you.

“None that I could detect.” 

Well that didn’t make your job any easier. You puffed out your cheeks as you blew a frustrated breath. “Any outstanding differences?” you tried.

“None of those either, Miss, but you'll never encounter the same coding language back to back. Most common are C, C++, C#, Python, Golang, Ruby, and Java, although one version written in Intercal has appeared.” 

“Damn,” you hissed. “This is that one file that kept failing, isn’t it? Must be pretty large. What’s on here?” 

“Information,” answered Tony. “A friend of mine is trying to hide something from me so I’m trying to find out what before it blows up in my face.” 

Whatever he said had gone in one ear and out the other. You stopped asking questions after that, instead choosing to read the code line by line. You were lucky to encounter one written in a language you understood. Whatever this was must have been important because the work was meticulous. “FRIDAY, could you set a timer up with how much time I have left to read through this?” you requested lowly. A small window popped up at the top of the screen and you moved it to the corner. “Thank you.” You expanded all elements so you wouldn’t have to waste time clicking on each individually. 

There was a little over 12 minutes left when you were barely half of the way through, so you skimmed the rest quickly. You had scrolled to the bottom and were about to go back to where you left off when your eyes locked onto one of the last sections. It was still closed… Which was odd because you’d already expanded all tabs. Opening the section, you learned it was long, but it didn’t belong there for any reason you could think of. It was also undoubtedly binary code, but how was that integrated into the rest of it? You scrolled to the beginning of the command. 11 minutes, 17 seconds. The way it was set up wasn’t to avoid a human, it was to get around a computer. To FRIDAY, that line of code must’ve been invisible. Which also explained why the program Mr. Stark made was failing.

You grabbed your phone, quickly searching up a binary code translator. You hurried to type in the first six sets before realizing it was just the same pattern of zeros and ones. The translator came up with dots and dashes.  _ Holy shit, this is genius _ . Seven minutes. You scrambled for a pen. “Hey are there sticky notes or something around here?” 

“Drawer on the right.” You retrieved them quickly. “What’s up?” 

You didn’t answer him as you sloppily jotted down the symbols. Four minutes, eight seconds. You stared at the note, quickly trying to put together each set of symbols.  _ I open at the close _ . You fiddled with the pen.

“Ace?”

_ I open at the close _ . Why did that sound familiar? Was that from a book? Yeah, Harry Potter. “This is so crazy, what the hell?” Whatever this file was, it was someone’s golden snitch. What was Harry’s answer? Only three minutes, no time to search it. What was his answer?!  _ I am about to die. _ Aha! That’s what it was. Your heart was hammering in your chest. Just over two minutes. You’d have to think and type on the spot. Hopefully it would accept a passcode of dots and dashes over the zero-one pattern. “Please work, please work, please work.” 

Three seconds.  _ Enter _ . 

The screen flashed once as the computer processed.

Then, miraculously, a loading screen popped up. Your jaw dropped as you began laughing. “That worked?” you shrieked. “Oh my God, that worked!” 

“What?” shouted Mr. Stark. Something clattered onto a table. “You actually- How in hell’s name did you get that open?” 

“It was genius,  _ genius _ , a computer system would’ve missed it because it was hiding, they coded it that way. It was in binary and the binary was morse code and the morse code was a riddle from Harry Potter - sort of - and-” You spun around to face him but froze when you saw the look he was giving you. “And- and I wasn’t supposed to do that, was I?” You turned to the screen but it had changed. When you turned back, you caught sight of the gauntlet on his hand. Even if it held in a fist for now, it was still terrifying. “I- I’m really sorry I didn’t - I mean, you just, and I, um.” You were at a loss for words. “You don’t have to give me a key. I just- you- you said you wanted it open.” 

“He did,” said Peter. He came from behind you and stood between you and Mr. Stark. “What were you saying? How’d you get it open?” 

“I expanded all tabs and skimmed it over. There was a part that seemed out of place, ones and zeroes, binary, I can’t remember the line. So I got out my phone and typed it in and it came out as morse code; and I happen to know morse code because the lieutenant takes my phone a lot, so I have to shut it down and set it up- I have it set up to turn back on if I press the power button in the morse code for open in case the program I wrote is inaccessible for any reason. 

“So, I know morse code and it translated to ‘I open at the close,’ which is from Harry Potter, and I’m really into reading and read the series like five times so I knew the answer was ‘I am about to die’ and so I typed that in as the passcode in morse and it opened and  _ I really don’t know what I did wrong, I’m sorry _ .” You were panting as you finished your rushed explanation. You had thought they’d be excited to have it open. Mr. Stark was pretty happy when you proved to him that the car would work, you thought it might be the same this time. “I swear that’s all I did, I didn’t even look at the files. Please, whatever I did, I won’t do it.” 

“Damn right you won’t,” muttered Mr. Stark, clenching his hands tightly. Your eyes widened at the remark.

Peter slid in front of you a bit. “She didn’t know, Mr. Stark. You gave her a chance with it and she happened to catch something we didn’t, or maybe she got lucky. That’s not her fault.” His voice was controlled, but from the sound of it, just barely. 

“Boss,” said FRIDAY. “You’ve got a call coming in. You can have three guesses as to who it’s from.” 

Mr. Stark looked from his intern to you and swiped a hand down his face, smearing grime onto his cheek in the process. “The dead man?”

“Not him,” said FRIDAY. 

“It’s Patchy the Pirate, isn’t it?” 

“Would you like me to put him through?” 

“Keep him on hold,” answered Mr. Stark. “You two, out. And  _ you- _ ” He pointed at you. “You don’t leave until we talk.”

Peter grabbed your hand, practically dragging you away. “I don’t- What’s going on, what did I do?” you whispered. 

He pressed the button for the main level . “This isn’t your fault. That just happened to be a S.H.I.E.L.D file.” 

The shock of his words left you feeling numb. You squeezed his hand. “That happened to be a what?”

Peter was now pulling you toward the kitchen. “You’re not gonna be in trouble for it - at least, I don’t think so - but that was why Mr. Stark was upset, he doesn’t really trust people and he was probably just surprised too. He’s really trying to make sure everyone here is safe, because they get a lot of threats, and he wants to make sure you’re not dangerous.” 

A chill ran through you as you realized what he was saying. “Oh my God. Oh my God, I just hacked into a government file. I - I just- that wasn’t what- I thought it must’ve just been some documents or maybe blackmail his friend had on him or something,  _ oh my God _ .” 

“Alright, sit down, I’m gonna get you a glass of water.” 

You sat in the chair he had pulled out and clutched your head as you rested your elbows on the table.  _ I just hacked into a government file _ . Those seven words kept floating around your head. 

“Y/n? It’s not that bad, really, and I’m pretty sure Mr. Stark isn’t mad about it. It’d be kind of hypocritical because he does that fairly often, really.” Peter slid a tall glass of water in front of you. 

“Yeah, in case you missed it, he’s  _ Tony Stark, _ Peter. He can get away with that type of stuff, I can’t!” 

“Can’t get away with what?” 

You yelped, knocking over the glass as you turned. You swore as it shattered. “I’m just ruining everything today, aren’t I?” You reached towards the larger pieces and quickly picked them up. “Sorry, so sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you behind me, James, and I’m really jumpy, I guess, and clumsy, I really should’ve realized that was there.”

“Okay, okay. Stop. Hey, _hey,_ _stop_ ,” he said gently, grabbing your forearm. You nearly clutched the other one shut from instinct. “I have no idea what got you so wound up, but you’ve gotta slow down. Did you even notice you cut yourself?” 

You glanced down at your hand and realized he was right. There must’ve been shards you couldn’t see in the water that got caught in your skin. Now that you saw the injuries, your attention was firmly on them and they stung like hell. “No. Sorry.” 

“You’ve gotta stop apologizing, Doll.”

“Sor- um - Okay.”

“Peter, could you grab a first aid kit and some paper towels, please?” 

Peter jumped to follow the order and James turned back to you. “Why don’t we set those down and you can tell me what Stark would be able to get away with?” He took the glass from your other hand and set them in a pile. 

“I hacked into a S.H.I.E.L.D file on accident,” you blurted out. James raised his eyebrows. “I swear it was an accident, I didn’t know it was a S.H.I.E.L.D file, I didn’t even look at it, I just knew Mr. Stark couldn’t open it, and he let me try, and I got it, and now he’s kind of mad, and he kicked us out of the lab, and I don’t think I’m going to be allowed here ever again because of it.” 

James nodded. “Hey, take a deep breath. If anything you did Stark a favor, so I doubt he’d kick you out,” he comforted. Peter handed him the first aid kit and began with the glass on the table. 

“I’m really sorry about the glass.” 

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve got like, twelve of them. It won’t be missed,” brushed off James. “Why are you so worried about Stark?” 

“Cause he owns the place and I like being here,” you murmured. 

James glanced up at you as he retrieved the tweezers and the small bottle of alcohol. “This is probably gonna hurt,” he warned. “You like it here?” 

You bit your lip and inhaled sharply as he began. “Yeah.”

“What do you like about it?” 

“I dunno. Everything.” The best part was that it wasn’t home. “The people, mostly. Everyone’s really nice. It’s just-” He removed a particularly large piece, causing you to pause. James held your hand firmly as you reflexively tried to pull away. “It’s a good environment. It feels safe here,” you mumbled. Quieter, you added, “most of the time.”

James looked up from what he was doing. There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t place as he repeated, “Most of the time?” 

You shrugged feebly. There were some bad times here and there; you still hadn’t forgotten the Loki thing, and the nightmares had sucked. Other than that it was pretty good.

He returned to his work. After a couple minutes of silence, he said quietly, “You know that no one here would hurt you, right? Not intentionally, at least.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes wandered over to Peter, who was sitting on top of the kitchen counter, his eyes on you.

“Why don’t we get your hand washed off and I’ll bandage it?” he suggested. 

You walked over to the kitchen sink and turned it to cold.  _ Just grit and bear it, you’ve got this y/n _ . You sucked air beteween your teeth as the water ran over the cuts. That would be a bitch to work with later. You gently rubbed away the stains on your skin. You shut the water off and dabbed at your hand with a paper towel. James had pulled out some bandages and antibiotic ointment. 

You held out your hand towards him once more. “Thank you,” you mumbled as he wrapped it. 

“You’re welcome. You can’t just grab at glass like that, though,” he reproached. “Seriously.” 

Your face heated up and you pulled your hand back when he finished. “I wasn’t grabbing, I… I should’ve paid more attention,” you admitted. “It’d really suck if this was the last time we saw each other.” 

“Why would it be the last time we saw each other?” 

“Cuz Mr. Stark is going to kick me out and ban me from here as soon as he’s done with the call he’s on.” 

“Could you stop saying that?” requested Peter. “Seriously. He’s not like that, I don’t know why you think he would be, but he isn’t.”

Peter would know. He spent a lot of time around the man. His words still didn’t have an effect on the fear you harbored. You’d only been around for a couple of months, but you couldn’t imagine having to go back to what things were like before. 

“I agree with Peter, I doubt Stark would kick you out for helping him. And, while I’m not going to entertain the idea that he’d kick you out, I’m hurt you’d forget about our sundays so easily.”

A smile flitted on your lips. At least one of the super soldiers enjoyed the coffee dates as much as you did. “Still down for this week then?” 

“Of course. Hey, how’s that summer class? You never texted me about it.”

You had mentioned it on Sunday. You didn’t really expect him to remember, much less care about it. It was really just something to fill the discussion. “Not bad. I don’t like it, but it’s required, so… Better sooner than never. I don’t really have much to base that opinion on, it’s only been two days,” you laughed. “Economics just isn’t something I’m interested in.” 

“Oh, I got that out of the way my sophomore year,” said Peter. “I didn’t enjoy it either. I get why we have it, but it’s boring.” 

You pushed your fears about Tony Stark to the back of your mind as the opportunity for a lighter conversation came up, and you even managed to rope James in to discuss his school days during the wartime era, which slowly but surely devolved into a list of things Steve Rogers had dragged him into. You let the tales distract you from your upcoming demise, glad that if this was going to be your last time at the tower, at least say it wasn’t all bad. 


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony is more paranoid than Nick Fury.  
>  **TRIPLE UPDATE WARNING:** Pt. 3 of 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I misspelled “Kitchen” four times trying to remember how it was actually written. Kicthen and kitchin were the two variations. A struggle. Also: A fictional birthday that may or may not be relevant to the plot later… 👀 we’ll see. It’s written in, just in case.

“Stark, what the fuck are you doing with those files?” demanded Nick Fury the second FRIDAY took him off hold. 

“Right now? Reading them,” he answered as FRIDAY pulled one up. 

“That mission is none of your business.” 

“Y/f/n,” Tony answered. “Huh. Birthday: November eleventh, two thousand two. Father: Lieutenant Logan Y/l/n , age forty.” Tony skipped over the part about her mother. He’d read all this while doing his own background check. He flipped through impatiently. “What are you hiding… Points of interest: yada, yada, connections to a cyberattack on Stark- Hey, why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” 

“We tell you what you need to know.” 

“Oh, so I’m not need-to-know about the fact that I invited her into the tower that she tried to hack into? You better have a damn good reason for me not to march her out of here right now.”

“Not her. Someone used a program y/l/n was working on. She was deemed not an active threat,” replied Fury. “We’re already working on it.” 

“She is a hazard, active or not!” retaliated Tony. He didn’t mention that she had been the one to open her own file. From the way the conversation was going, he’d be the one blamed for it. 

“Careful, Agent Romanoff might not be too nice if she hears you saying that.” 

“And that’s another thing! You put Natasha and Clint on her? Who else is working on this?” He found the list of people before Fury could answer. “Hill is on here? And you want me to believe she’s safe to be around?” 

“Stark, Agent Hill’s assignment to this mission is irrelevant to y/l/n herself and whether or not she’s safe to be around.” 

Tony opened her assignment. “Richard Downey… Physics teacher from Midtown School of Science and Technology.” He browsed over the information available.  _ Identified as a member of hostile organization The 13th Alliance - May 22nd, 2019. Taken into custody - June 14th, 2019.  _ “You let him stay around kids when he was identified as hostile?” exclaimed Tony. What the hell was wrong with these people?

“We needed the time to find out who he was working with. And a teacher going missing so close to the end of the year would raise questions.”

“He could have done something,” argued Tony. “And you could’ve done something. You just let him work?”

“There’s not a thing he could say or do without us knowing, Stark. There were agents on standby if anything went south. The only person he was targeting was the girl. He thought she was smart enough to solve some sort of problem for him, won’t say what.” 

“But how do you know y/n isn’t a threat?” 

“She has no active connections.”

“What if she’s in it for the long run?” proposed Tony, trying to ignore that she had just gone up with Peter. “Doesn’t want to show her hand too early.” 

“Stark, believe it or not, we’ve got all bases covered. Her social group is limited to her workplace, barely four kids from her school, and the folks in that tower. And before you ask, the people at her workplace are clean.” 

“So, what?” The information Fury was giving Tony added up to a dead end. “She’s a genius and people are after her because of it?” 

“Yes.” 

Actually, it didn’t add up at all. “Why  _ her _ ? Why y/n? What’s so special about her?” He returned to her file, but it gave him nothing. “That school is full of child-geniuses, how do you know she’s the only one Downey’s after?” The silence made Tony shift and pull up Downey’s file once more, looking for connections between teacher and student. Nothing jumped at him.

“The theory is that she was an easy target. She spent a lot of time at school, by herself. She was already isolated.”

Tony considered Fury’s words. Isolation is one of the key signs of abuse. His eyes shifted from the files to her bike. The one thing that had her talking more than Tony had ever heard, and she had done most of the work at her school. The girl had promise. “If I kick her out of here, I’m handing her to them, aren’t I?” 

“Not that we’d let them get to her, but it certainly heightens the chance.” 

“And she’s not supposed to know about any of this, is she?” 

“Don’t even think about it,” warned Fury. “If she knows a word about this, the entire mission is jeopardized.”

Tony was skeptical of that course of action. “You’re just going to let her walk around acting like her life isn’t in danger?” 

“Not quite. Romanoff’s already teaching her self-defense. She knows there’s a target on her back. Call it an occupational hazard of being around the Avengers.”

That was better than nothing. “Fine.” He closed the files. “Are we done, then?” 

“Sounds like it.” And the call was over. 

Tony planned out everything he was going to say during the elevator ride to the main floor. He was going to apologize for his behavior (a skill that had much improved over the years) and casually mention that it was a S.H.I.E.L.D file that she wasn’t supposed to open. 

The words died on his lips when he got into the kitchen. Y/n was at the head of the table sitting  _ between  _ Bucky and Peter, not just at Peter’s side. That was a first. They were laughing at something that had just been said. Her hands were on the table, barely fidgeting, but one of them was wrapped. 

Her laugh stopped short when she caught sight of him. Just like that, a flip switched. She sat up straight in her seat and her two companions turned to face him as well. “Mr. Stark, I’m really so sorry. Peter mentioned that it was a government file and I swear I didn’t know and I wouldn’t have even tried if I did.” 

“It’s fine.” He took the seat beside Peter. “I gave you a shot at it, you figured it out. Good job, really, you aced it,” he winked. “What happened to your hand?” 

She looked down sheepishly and rubbed the bandage. “It’s nothing, I accidently broke a glass cup and cut my hand trying to pick up the pieces. Sorry.” 

Tony frowned. “Don’t worry about the cup. It’s probably not going to be missed. Are you sure your hand’s alright? We could go visit medical, make sure there’s nothing stuck there.” 

She shook her head. “It’s fine. It wasn’t that bad.” 

“Are you sure? It’s really no problem.” 

She crossed her arms over her body and nodded. 

Tony realized he was making her uncomfortable and switched the topic. “So, what were you all laughing at?”

“I was just telling them about Steve when he was their age,” said Bucky, swiftly moving the conversation along. “I swear, he must’ve gone looking for fights. I don’t even know what he did half the time. I was always checking allies for that little punk. Not so little anymore, though. I should drag him in here, make him list off every fight he ever got into.”

“Don’t give them ideas,” joked Tony. “Who knows what righteous fights they’d pick with the training they’re getting. Where is Cap, anyways?”

“Art studio,” replied Bucky. “I think it’s those pencils, he’s been spending more time there since he found them.” 

Tony smirked. He had bought Steve a few packages of the Avengers pencils and hid them around the tower after the man had complained about not having them. “What’s he drawing? Is it us?” 

“He won’t tell me. You know how he gets about people going in there and seeing a work before he wants them to.” 

Tony nodded. He understood perfectly. Messing with Steve’s studio would be like Steve messing with Tony’s lab. 

“He must draw a lot then,” said y/n after a minute.

“All the time,” said Bucky. “He used to work at a comic shop, back in the day. Pretty sure that it was what he wanted to do for a living if the war and all hadn’t happened. We’ve actually got some comics in our apartment, if you want to see them.” 

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you sure he’d be okay with that?” 

Bucky nodded. “It’s fine. We could ask before, if you want to check.”

Y/n turned to the teen beside her. “What do you think, Peter? Do you wanna check them out?” 

She hadn’t voiced wanting to see them or not, but was instead looking for Peter’s opinion. It occurred to Tony that she probably didn’t want to leave his intern’s side, however comfortable she’d gotten with Bucky. 

Peter slid out of his seat eagerly. “Yeah. Maybe he can tell us about what it was like to write them.” 

Tony, meanwhile, wasn’t interested. “Well, you have fun with that. I have some things to work on in my lab. I’ll see you kids down there later, right?” He ruffled Peter’s hair. The boy’s hand quickly came up to fix it, and he shot his mentor a dirty look.  _ Teenagers. _

The kids nodded and followed Bucky towards the studio. Tony counted it as a successful conversation. 

It still wasn’t enough to deter him from hiding a tracker on her bike.

* * *

You followed James and Peter towards the art studio and James knocked on the door. He waited for an answer before knocking louder in the same pattern. “Yeah, yeah, give me a second, jerk. You can come in.” 

James opened the door and poked his head through. “Hey, is it alright if I show y/n and Peter your old comics?” 

“Which comics? Are they behind you?” 

“Yeah, and the collection from the newspaper. The ones in that big photobook upstairs.” 

“Do you even know where that is?” 

“Top shelf in the closet, on the right.” 

“Since when?” Steve opened the door a bit wider and relaxed against it, smiling at you and Peter before turning to his boyfriend. He then turned back to face you. Or, more specifically, your hand, which you had waved in greeting. 

You clasped your hands so the non-injured one was on top as James replied “Since Norway.” 

“Ah,” Steve nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I’ve got no problem with that. How’d they come up?”

The couple took the lead towards the elevator as you and Peter followed close behind. “I was telling them what it was like when we were their age.” 

The doors of the elevator opened out to a hallway and you followed Steve and James to the right. Peter turned back to glance at the other side. “Who else stays up here? Mr. Stark’s elevator just opens onto his floor.” 

“Yeah, I managed to convince Tony that I don’t need a whole floor to myself. Sam’s got the other side. Clint and Nat share a level, too. I think Bruce and Thor have their own floors, but I’ve never really visited.” Steve opened the door and you followed him through to a kitchen. 

You immediately noticed that it was warmer than the main floor. Not hot, but more comfortable. 

James left to get the book as Steve showed you over to the living room. “Do you guys want anything? Snacks, something to drink?” 

“Do you guys have those protein bars?” Peter requested. “The chocolate ones.” 

“Yeah. Y/n, anything? We’ve got pretzels, chips, fruit snacks...” 

You shook your head. “No, thank you.” 

He tossed Peter two protein bars. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“How are you not hungry? I thought you said summer school didn’t serve lunch?” asked Peter as he unwrapped the bar in his hand. “Seriously, it’s almost two.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh really? You never mentioned that.”

You shrunk down in your seat. “I guess pretzels wouldn’t be so bad,” you conceded.

Steve got a bowl of pretzels for you some fruit snacks for himself. “Bucky, do you want anything?” he asked the man, who had just reentered the main area. 

“I’ll grab myself something, but thanks.” 

James handed you the leather-bound book before going to the kitchen. You held it between you and Peter and flipped to the first page.  _ The Adventures of Mr. Morales _ . It featured the main character beating up someone who had disrespected a veteran. 

“Who’s Mr. Morales based off of?” you wondered. He was a prominent feature in the first several pages.

“Well… myself, if I’m being honest. Most of his stories actually happened. Less witty one-liners, though.” 

You nodded and Peter turned the page once more. “These are amazing. So this was your job when you were our age? Coming up with these?” he questioned.

“It sure was.” Steve picked up a sketchpad and pencil lying on the table beside them and began telling you and Peter what it was like working in the industry, back in the days. 

You and Peter flipped through as you listened and snacked on some pretzels. Ever so slowly, you began to realize that Peter was pulling the book into his lap, and you were practically leaning over his shoulder to read it. “You’re pulling it towards you, Peter,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“Am not. If I were then I’d just do this.” He pulled the book onto the other side of his lap. 

You sighed. It was better to let it go. “Whatever. I hate to cut this short, by the way, but I probably should be going. I’ve got work tonight,” you excused yourself. “Thanks for letting us look through these.” 

“Yeah, anytime,” said Steve as Peter whined about you having to leave. 

Steve and James accompanied you to the door. “Are you coming back tomorrow?” questioned James. 

“Tomorrow is a little soon,” you told him worriedly.

“I thought you said you liked it here,” he smirked. 

You caught on quickly and sent a playful glare towards him. “I do! It’s nice here. I’ll come and visit, but tomorrow is actually a bit soon. I was planning to relax a little.” 

“If you say so, Doll. Text me when you’re home safe.” 

Ever since your girls’ day out, you learned that James was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing and had actually been expecting texts that you were alright. He texted you whenever he hadn’t heard anything for more than three days, and even though the messages mostly consisted of  _ Pepper spray anyone recently?, _ it was the thought that counted. “Yeah, yeah, I will. See you soon.” You waved at the couple as you stepped into the elevator. 

The ride down to Mr. Stark's lab was filled with discussion of your favorite comics. Your bike was in the same place you had left it when Mr. Stark had received his call. 

“Thanks for letting me come over, Mr. Stark,” you said as you entered. 

His head darted up from whatever he was welding and he flipped up his face shield. “Any time. Are you heading out?” 

You nodded and kicked up the stand of your bike. Peter waited near the door. “I’ve got work tonight.” 

“Are you biking there?” 

You didn’t get why he was asking, but you answered politely. “I’m biking home first. I’ll probably end up walking to work.” 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Your hand is bandaged pretty heavily, Ace. Really I could give you a lift,” he offered. “Or maybe money for the subway.” 

Something in the back of your mind bitterly recognized that you could be nothing more than a charity case. “Nah, it’s fine. I have a metro card if I want. Besides, if I can bike while drinking coffee, I can deal with this.” You held up your hand and flexed it experimentally. 

“Alright, Ace. Visit soon. I meant what I said, the lab’s open if you want to use it.” He held your gaze with a steady focus. 

“Yes, sir.” You rolled your bike out into the hallway. 

You stood in the elevator with a silent Peter. You sighed. Time to own up. “You were right, he isn’t like the way I thought he’d be.” 

Peter’s eyes snapped to you. “Are you going to come over?”

You answered as you made your way to the door. “I think so… I told James I would.” You would hate to break a promise after all he’s done for you. “It’ll be weird if I come over while you’re gone, though.”

“It’s only a couple weeks,” he comforted. “Who knows, maybe by then you’ll be able to beat me in hand to hand.” 

That would never happen. You had watched Peter hold his own against Steve well enough when he trained (which had earned you a thorough scolding from Natasha, along with plenty of teasing right after), even if Steve was going easy on him. Although you suspected Steve really wasn’t. “Hilarious, Peter. I’ll see you soon,” you waved, before mounting your bike and pedalling away. It was time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I had a surprise! 😅 did you like it? Three whole chapters! Plus plenty of angst.
> 
> The triple update is in honor of _several_ things. Most importantly (in my opinion), November 28th marks the 6 month anniversary of my first chapter published here!! 6 months of me writing this fic to the day, with (here are all the other things to celebrate...) almost 400 subscriptions, over 340 bookmarks, and over 1100 kudos, plus hundreds of wonderful comments!! Whether you’ve been here since the beginning or joined along the way, thank you so much!! Happy 6 months!🎉🥳🎈🎉
> 
> Also!!! Happy thanksgiving if you celebrated it! I'd just like to say once again that I'm thankful for all of you 😁❤😁❤😁❤💖💖


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you tell a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: pt. 1  
> Lol Peter was going to be in this chapter but that he gave me writer's block so I kicked him out. He's a darling in the next chapter, though, don't worry.

You didn’t return to the tower again until Super Soldier Sunday with Steve and James. The three of you were currently lounging in their apartment, where you had met them after breakfast for a lazy day. Today’s mug read  _ Oh for Fox Sake _ with a cartoon fox drawn where the word would be and you held it close as you lied back on a couch. 

You had your engineering sketchbook in hand, drawing out James’ metal arm as you tried to imagine how it might work. He was reading a book on the couch adjacent to yours. Steve was beside him in a position similar to your own but with many more pencils (charcoals, really) and heavily stained fingers. You glanced up at James every once in a while, trying to get the plating and gleam of his arm just right. 

“If you have something to say, just say it, Doll,” said James, not looking up from his book. “But I must warn you, I’m a taken man.”

Oops. Of course he had noticed your staring, he was a super soldier and ex-assassin. But since he had invited a question… “Sorry. Is your metal arm magnetic?” 

“Yes.” 

“So, theoretically speaking, if I put a kitchen magnet on your arm, it’d effectively work as a temporary tattoo that you could take off whenever you wanted. Like, those little word magnet sheets.” 

“Interesting theory,” said James, finally looking up. “You spent forty-five minutes thinking about that?” 

You flipped your sketchbook around to show him the picture, with questions in random, empty spaces. “Amongst other things, yeah.”

“May I?” He held his hand out towards the item and you forced yourself to relinquish it. You watched him closely, waiting for the moment that he’d try and page through so you could take it back.

He took a sip of his coffee as his eyes roamed the page. “Nice drawing.” Steve looked up, but quickly realized James had been complimenting you. He craned his neck for a quick glance and returned to his own work. “Interesting ideas, too. I might have to talk to Stark about them.”

You had jotted down some possible improvements that he might or might not have, most of them in the form of a question. “Thanks.”

“Can I borrow your pencil?” he asked eventually.

You handed it over just as slowly as you did for your notebook. “Why?”

“To answer some of these.” 

“Oh.” Well, you hadn’t been expecting that. You had just been pondering them since you were bored. “Some of those questions are really, really stupid, you don’t have to.”

James raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ve spent at least half my life with that blond punk over there, I know a thing or two about answering stupid questions.” 

Steve looked up from his drawing again. “I don’t ask that many questions, what are you talking about?” 

“Oh, you’re right, it’s because you’re too busy not thinking things through, Mr. I-Crashed-A-Plane-And-Now-I-Jump-Out-Of-Them-Without-Parachutes.” 

“When there’s water, it was only a few times.”

“Not a few, a handful. And Romanoff already told me about every one of them, and the time you jumped through a glass roof.” 

“I had the shield.” 

“You had a shit ton of luck not to break your ass,” refuted James. 

Steve didn’t have an answer for that (other than a muttered “language”) and instead turned back to his drawing. You continued to watch James scribble down his answers, shifting to lie more comfortably. “So other than being super cool and deflecting bullets, does your metal arm actually do anything?” 

One edge of his mouth turned up. “I don’t really describe it as super cool, but yes. It happens to have a microphone for recording and it’s extremely useful when I want to grab pans from the oven.” 

You tried to stifle your laughter. 

He looked up, a smile playing on his lips. “That was a joke, you can laugh,” permitted James. He moved to sit closer to Steve, forcing the latter to pull his knees up. “Do you want to come sit over here? We can talk about it. If you want.”

You took a seat beside him to see what he had already answered.  _ How many times has it been upgraded? This arm is from Wakanda and hasn’t been upgraded since I got it. Who designed it? Princess Shuri. Does he spend less money on deodorant?  _ You had forgotten about that one, but apparently the answer was probably. 

James pointed to a particular question near the bottom of the page.  _ Is it heavy? _ “So for this one… and this one.” He pointed to another a few inches away.  _ Is it all one piece? Or is it detachable? _ “It used to be one piece. The original one was really bulky, it was actually a bit painful. The new one is better, though. And it does disconnect if I want to take it off.” 

You nodded at the answer. “That’s cool. So Princess Shuri designed it? Did you ask her for anything or just let her have free reign?” 

“It was a gift, actually, I wasn’t expecting it. She kept it basic, I think she already knew I didn’t want anything too fancy. Stark helps me fine tune it every once in a while, after missions and whatnot. Makes sure everything is running smoothly.” 

So the ideas you had mentioned would be his first time adding anything to it. “Oh. That’s cool.” 

“Yeah. You two would get along well,” James continued. “Is there any reason you still call me James, by the way?” He tapped the page with the eraser end of the pencil, pointing his name in  _ Is James right or left handed?  _ Which was above  _ Was he right or left handed before? _

“Because it’s your name?” you answered, not sure what to say. “I dunno. It was the first name I knew you by, it just stuck. I’m sorry, does it bother you?”

“Meh, it’s just a little impersonal is all. If you’re going to keep using my first name, I’d prefer Jamie.” 

“Jamie,” you tested. “Okay. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” He erased the last two letters and wrote in the moniker. “I’ve been right handed all my life, by the way.” He circled  _ right _ for both questions. “You were really bored over there, huh?” 

Were you bored? “I don’t think I was bored…” How to phrase it? “I’m not used to lazy days. Normally when we hang out, you guys are telling stories, too, so I have other questions.” 

“You do like to keep us talking,” said Steve. “What do you normally do on Sundays?” 

“Chores, mostly. Homework.” You gaze slid towards James again. He had convinced you to finish your school work early and try to take a break today. “Sometimes I work. My life is boring,” you smiled. “This is the best part of my week, honestly.” 

James shook his head. “Hanging out with two centennials is the best part of your week?” 

The three of you shared a laugh. “Wow, James - Jamie, sorry - way to make my life sound even more boring. Thank you,” you told him sarcastically. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were aware of what you were saying,” he defended. “Seriously, though, we barely know anything about you. You’ve gotta have some good stories.”

A good story. “I don’t know… My life is boring, I just said that.” You put some more thought into it. Not how you got your job. What about the time you had pretty much shut down Midtown? “Uh, one time I pretty much shut down the school, if you wanna hear about that?” 

“We talked about that before, lunch with the team. Not that it’s a problem, but it’d be nice to know something new,” encouraged James. “There’s gotta be more than that, Doll.”

You bit your lip, suddenly realizing that it’d only be fair after how much you’d badgered them for stories. You really should tell them something. “I’ll tell you how I got into Midtown. That’s a pretty okay story, I think, if we ignore the illegal parts of it.” You chuckled nervously.

  
“How illegal are we talking?” said Steve slowly.

“Illegal as in no one got hurt but also my father’s first signature on file is forged,” you confessed. “It’s not that bad. I mean, it’s a good forgery, if I’m being honest.”

“Really?” Steve questioned. 

“I keep saying I’m no angel! I needed to for the scholarship,” you defended. The story really only got worse from there. Oh well. In for a penny, in for a pound. They deserved to know, didn’t they? After all the things they had done for you. “I’ve got a full ride because of a perfect score on the application test and essay, which I needed his permission for, and ‘cause I keep my grades up.”

“Something tells me there’s more,” said James. “What’s the whole story there? How’d you get the scholarship?”

“So, I was invited to apply in eighth grade, they found me through a… a sort of academic decathlon type of situation. I was in a lot of competitions…” That was back when you used any excuse to stay away from home. “I think it was because I made it to state for the junior math league, actually, but I didn’t end up going because of… scheduling conflicts.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. “Anyways, I don’t think I was supposed to open the letter, it was addressed with ‘to the parent of’ but I really didn’t care cuz it had my name on it.” 

“So we’re ignoring the fact that opening someone else’s mail is a federal crime,” pointed out Steve. “Continue.” 

Your face heated. “Well it had my name on it, so I opened it, and it was the invitation. After that, I went to their website and found out about the scholarships. So I kinda just visited after school once to ask and they let me sit the test but I needed my father’s signature to actually apply. They ended up sending me home with the paper and the essay question and I forged the signature because I didn’t think I’d actually get in. But then I did. It’s not like he doesn’t know what school I attend.” You bit your lip slightly. Even though you did also enroll yourself. It had definitely been a conversation filled with a lot of pleading when he found out, ending in plenty of bruises but also your attendance at Midtown.

“There’s more,” urged James. He set the pencil and notebook down on the coffee table. His full attention was now on you. “You’ve got a really obvious tell, Doll, spill it.”

“That’s it, that’s the story,” you said. “That’s probably the worst- one of- no, actually, that is the worst. The most illegal thing I’ve done  _ intentionally  _ is enroll for school. You wanted to know more about me, that’s the best story I have; nobody knew about that until today. I’m not like you two, that’s the most rebellious thing I’ve done. Other than being here, I’m pretty sure that takes the cake.” 

James’ attention caught on the last sentence. “You’re not allowed to be here?”

You shook your head. “I thought we established that?” 

“We did, but you’re  _ really _ not supposed to be here? Worse than committing crime not supposed to be here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, barely skipping the  _ duh _ . “My father is a police lieutenant, he thinks… a lot of things, actually. Police views are pretty polarized when it comes to you guys, and he’s on the end that thinks you’re not the greatest company.  _ Obviously  _ I don’t agree, I think you guys are amazing, but he’d be pretty mad if he found out I was here.” That might have been the understatement of the century.

“And yet you still come over? What if you get caught?” James was studying you in a way that made you feel he already knew more than he was supposed to. Which he couldn’t have. You couldn’t face another police-call-gone-wrong. There is no way he knew anything. He can’t. 

“Okay, I am not liking this discussion,” you stated firmly, heart racing at the thought of what a slip-up would earn you. Under no circumstances could they find out. “Yes, I come over. Yes, if he found out, I’d be in trouble.” If you could define trouble as dead or worse. “It’s not a big deal.” Slight lie. “He likes routine. I like routine. He’s out every weekend. I get to do whatever I want as long as I’m not being a dumbass and I get my chores done before he’s home. My life is boring, okay? That was a story that probably could’ve been funny but didn’t really end up that way, sorry. But, like I said, you pretty much know everything about me already.” You reached forward and took your notebook off the table, flipping it to a concept sketch of what your bike would look like if you added LEDs as you moved to your original seat. Maybe movement would hide the shakiness of your hands.

“So, this is the best part of your week because it’s rebellious,” quipped Steve.

Your heart went from pounding in your crest to dropping to your feet. “No! No. That’s not- That’s not it. I just- I like it here.” Wow, y/n, great answer. Stupid nervous stutter. 

“Yeah, it’s a nice place. And it’s an act of rebellion.” 

“It’s not!” you protested. You could feel your hands beginning to shake worse and clutched the notebook in an effort to end the sensation. Your heart was racing. How could you tell them that being at the tower was infinitely better than being home- alone or otherwise? Or why you didn’t spend more time with friends? “It’s not an act of rebellion. I just enjoy being here.” 

James jumped into the argument with a palm facing each of you. “Okay, not an act of rebellion. You like it here,  _ we like having you here _ -” James gave Steve a pointed look. “- and if the worst two things you’ve done are get into school and hang out with us, your record is clean to me.” 

You looked at Steve. He merely grimaced. 

You tried to pretend that the reaction didn’t hurt as you stood. “Well… I’m glad that’s been concluded. I should, um, go and get some homework done. Get some things done ahead of time, maybe.” 

“Hey, I thought today you were taking a break?” expressed James. His focus moved entirely onto you. His brows were furrowed as if you’d somehow hurt him with the statement. “Come on, Doll. I  _ know  _ we agreed that today was a break, you promised. What happened to taking care of yourself?” 

Had you really promised? Probably. “I am. But if I get work done ahead of time I won't have to do it tomorrow and I won’t worry about it when I go out with Peter and MJ and Ned,” you reasoned. You held your notebook to your chest. “Thanks for the answers, by the way.” 

* * *

Bucky sighed. Steve just had to be an idiot. “Yeah, no problem. Next week, right? The Cafe?” Maybe her departure would hurt a little less if he knew when he would see her next.

He didn’t miss her glance at Steve before her eyes once again turned downcast. “Yeah. See you then, I guess. I, um, I can show myself out.” 

As soon as she was gone, Bucky began on Steve. “What the hell was that?” 

“What was what?” 

“You know what, Steve. You were pushing. For what? Did you even think before talking to her like that?” Bucky had seen y/n begin to shut down the minute Steve had said something. Or was it before that, when he had started asking consequences? He thought Steve would see it too, but obviously the man hadn’t.

“She only likes being here because she’s not supposed to be here. And she just admitted to breaking the rules because she thought we’d be impressed by it. She has to know that’s not okay.”

Sometimes Bucky could not believe the man he was dating. “She told us because we asked. You’re judging her because she wanted to get a good education. Do you realize how stupid you sound?” 

“Bucky, one thing can lead to another, if she thinks we’re impressed-” 

“That’s bullshit,” interrupted Bucky. “She was already aware that we might be disappointed, you took it too far.” 

“What, do you want us to encourage breaking her dad’s rules to be here?” argued Steve. “We’d probably prove whatever it is her father thinks about us.”

“I’m not asking you to do that!”

“Then what do you want?” 

“For you not to do whatever that little show was. God, this is exactly the type of thing she was talking about,” he muttered at the end. He rubbed a hand down his face. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Last week. Remember the discussion we had right after the comics? I told you what we talked about. I told you exactly what I was worried about happening. She found some sort of refuge here, Steve, regardless of whose rules she’s breaking. Were you even listening to her speak? Y/n’s obviously terrified of getting caught.” By her father or by them, apparently. She had almost said something, and Bucky was sure she would’ve if he hadn’t asked so bluntly.

“Of course she is, so were we when we were her age.” 

The comment drove Bucky up the wall. “God damn it, Steve, you want to be right so much right now. Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“There’s no good-”

“No kid should be that terrified of their own father!” bellowed Bucky, pointing towards the door y/n had exited from. Steve fell silent. Bucky didn’t yell often. “There is  _ obviously  _ something going on there, which you would have realized if you were  _ listening  _ instead of being so goddamn occupied with what y/n said. 

“She hid the school thing from her father because she knew he wouldn’t like it. It’s  _ school _ , Steve, not drugs or some dumb club. She went behind his back to get an education; what type of a parent wouldn’t encourage going to a good school? When I asked her if being here was as bad as committing a crime, she got scared and tried to end the subject. She’s hiding something, I know it. And what else? She said he was out every weekend and she was free to do whatever. That’s not normal, Steve! Y/n felt safe enough to share something and your head was so far up your ass that you tried to call it rebellion. That wasn’t disappointment at not impressing us, she was upset because she shared something and got rejected. By you,” he couldn’t help but blame.

Bucky’s tone took on a sense of desperation as he came across another talking point. “Did you even realize that I had to talk her into this? Into coming over today? She was all set to do her chores and study like normal. I invited her. She hasn’t been here for nearly a week. I wanted her to know she could be safe here, Steve, that’s why she likes it. Not because she’s rebellious, it’s ‘cause she likes feeling safe.” And it was entirely possible Steve had just ruined that.

Steve could feel the horror and regret pooling as Bucky delivered blow after blow. He wanted y/n to be safe and yet he had sent her right back to what was likely the root of her problems, from the way Bucky had phrased it. Not only that, but he had accused her of something that she was obviously far from. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not the one who needs to hear it.” Bucky made a swift departure after the announcement and Steve knew he’d have to work for that apology to be accepted. “I’m going to the gym. Don’t follow.”

“Can I at least get her number to apologize?” 

“No. She said coffee next Sunday and she obviously wants her space. Maybe during that time you can learn to think before you act.” 

Steve inhaled sharply. Bucky had pulled the line on Steve before, but usually it wasn’t such a big deal. An impulse buy here or there, a bad choice during a mission, small things. Steve looked down at his sketchbook, which he had set aside during the argument. On it was a charcoal sketch of y/n with her notebook open in front of her. Before he had caused the argument. Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had messed up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that you all have read it, I’d like to take a moment to laugh about how many of you were prepared to face more angst. Last week I was like “is Tony angst not enough” and almost all of you were like “ _don’t play,_ we know there’s something coming…” and you were right XD We have Steve angst now too. Are you (un)happy?


	40. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you grab a coffee and see Peter off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING:Pt. 2

You were sitting in your corner at King’s brew, anxiously watching people come through the doors. It was already 7:15 a.m. Peter, MJ, and Ned were leaving in almost an hour. You were beginning to regret choosing this meeting time but you had other plans for the day. 

**_You:_ ** _ If you’re not here in 10 min I’m leaving _

_ Like seriously _

_ I do have other things planned today, one of which is actually time sensitive  _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ We’re right outside, just give us a minute.  _

We? You frowned deeply and glanced towards the door.  **_You:_ ** _ So Steve decided to come?  _

**_Jamie:_ ** _ What happened to when you wanted him around so I don’t do anything stupid? _

Steve basically kicked you out of the tower is what happened… 

“‘Hot mess express,’ eh?” you heard someone quote your mug. You looked up to see James and Steve standing at the other side of the table. “What happened to your lip?” 

“I got into a bar fight,” you said honestly, “ _ at work, _ don’t give me that look. Some drunk guy got handsy and I decided to practice something Natasha had shown me and his buddy, also drunk, got kinda mad so now I’ve got this.” 

James shook his head slowly. “Jesus…” 

“Please don’t lecture me, Scott was already mad enough. Scott’s my boss, by the way, he banned them. Anyways, are you going to get your coffee or are we just going to sit here and talk because Peter’s leaving at eight ten a.m, today, and I’m planning to say bye to him before then.”

“Are you?” he asked. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Planning to give him a kiss while you’re at it?”

Ever since that first day at the tower, he’d been making snide remarks at every chance. This was the first time he’d made one in person, though, and you tried to bury your embarrassment. “You know what? I’ll just buy you both your coffee and we can call it a morning, hm?”

James smirked. “You know I’m joking, sit back down. I’ll get us coffee while you two talk.” 

He left you and Steve at the table. You stared at your mug as you said quickly, “Whatever he put you up to, it’s fine, really. You don’t have to.” 

“He didn’t put me up to this. I was out of line last week, and I’m sorry. I really am. Everyone at the tower loves having you over and if you like being there, then you’re welcome any time,” he said. “I just don’t want you getting into more trouble than we’re worth.”

Shocker, shocker, Captain America didn’t want you breaking the rules. “I won’t be. Not anytime soon, at least. I know what I’m doing.” 

It was quiet after that and you played with the button of your cup, opening and closing the mouth of it. James returned to break the silence. “So…” 

“So,” you repeated. “Has anything interesting happened recently?” 

James made a show of being deep in thought. His voice was quieter than usual as he said “Hm, well, we’ve been visited by a norse god but no, nothing interesting.” 

You lowered your own voice considerably “Visited by a norse god? Like not… Y’know, green and magical? I thought he lived there.” 

Steve nodded. “More of the blond, burly type,” he replied. 

Thor. “Is he still around?” 

“Nah. He came to check on his brother. Apparently he wasn’t keeping in touch and he was concerned.” 

“The sibling bond would be cute if it weren’t for who was being checked on,” you voiced. 

“Well, Tony hasn’t taken the cuffs off of him since…” Steve struggled awkwardly for an appropriate phrasing. 

“Movie night?” you suggested.

“Since movie night.” 

Relief washed over you. He wasn’t getting off with just a slap on the wrist. “Hm. Did you guys ever interact with him anyways? I never saw him around.” 

Steve’s jaw ticked. “You weren’t supposed to. And no, only when his brother came over. Most of the team chose to keep their distance.” 

You nodded. Made sense. After 2012, they probably didn’t want to be anywhere near him. He had brainwashed over a hundred people and the resulting damage of his power trip was almost comparable to 9/11. Besides that, given the feeling you received when he had touched you, you weren’t surprised they wanted to avoid him. 

“Y/n.” Your eyes snapped to James. “You okay? You seemed pretty dazed.” 

You nodded and took a quick sip of your drink. “Yeah, fine, just lost in thought for a second,” you assured him with a small smile. 

He studied you for a moment. “If you say so. I was asking, earlier, are you still planning to come over to the tower while Peter’s gone?” 

“I don’t know,” you said apprehensively. You checked the time on your phone at the reminder of Peter. “I think I might. Natasha might hunt me down if I don’t show up for two weeks. Or maybe not, we’re going out next Saturday.”

“Why would she hunt you down?” asked James.

“She’s giving me self defense classes,” you explained. “She says it’s a good skill but it comes with practice.” 

“She’s right,” said Steve. “It is a good skill to have; and the more training, the better. So what’re you doing on Saturday?” 

“Girl’s day out. Pepper’s coming too.” You checked the time again. Barely a minute had passed. 

James was giving you a knowing look. “How far is the school from here?” 

“About ten minutes.” King’s brew was actually rather close to the school, now that you thought about it. You began to tap your foot as the worry settled in. “I just don’t want to forget about it.” 

James smiled. “I doubt you will. Are you biking there? I didn’t see your bike around when we walked in.” 

You shook your head. “Walking. I took the subway here.” Your mind drifted again. “Last night was a long night for me. I was just too tired to bike,” you sighed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” offered James.

You shrugged. There wasn’t much. “I had chores and then work, where I got punched in the face, and I came home late.” You bit your lip to stop from going on. Your AC had been blasting when you had entered, which really sucked. And then your father had spilled beer everywhere when you were trying to reset the temperature, so you had to clean. After that came a drunken tirade that you only partially understood but had still resulted in you staying up from the sound of it alone. But they didn’t need to hear all that. 

“Stop doing that, you’re going to make it worse,” chastised James. 

You released your lip to ask “What?” 

“That,” he replied, pointing to you. “You bite your lip when you’re thinking. Quit it. At least until it’s healed.” 

“Meh, I’ll be fine,” you told him. “Been there, done that, still standing.” 

A corner of his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “You’re impossible. I just had the best luck in the world getting stuck with two impossible people.”

“I didn’t do anything!” defended Steve. 

“You were twice as bad as she is,” countered James. “You’ve got enough stories to tell one every day of the year and still have extra for thanksgiving and christmas.” 

You paid half a mind to one particular tale they were sharing, much more occupied trying to figure out what to say Peter, MJ, and Ned. Your foot tapping escalated to bouncing your knee. Maybe you shouldn’t go… 

Your attention was pulled from your phone when a foot nudged yours.

“You’re shaking the table, Doll.” 

“Was I?” Yikes. “Sorry, just…” you glanced down at your phone. 

“What’re you so nervous about?” wondered Steve. “If you want to leave early-” 

“That’s not it. Or maybe it is. I dunno. I should probably just text him instead, it’ll probably be weird to show up when everyone’s saying goodbye to their families. I don’t even know what I’d say.” James started laughing. You must’ve looked like a fool. “Anyways, sorry, I was paying attention. You were talking about Oliver… something? Reeds? And um, a pottery class.”

“Forget about him,” said James. “What’s wrong? Weren’t you ready to leave if we were late?” 

“That was before the coffee kicked in and I started to think straight.” 

“Ah, is that so? Funny. Maybe I should get you some liquid courage.” James winked. 

“Shut up,” you replied. You went to check your phone when it lit up with a new notification.

**_MJ:_ ** _ Hey losers, where are you?  _

Peter and Ned were quick to respond that they were on their way. Now you had to decide what to do. You could leave, now, and make it just in time, maybe a little early, or you could stay in place. 

As if MJ had somehow read your mind, she sent out  _ Is y/n gonna sleep through goodbyes? Didn’t she say yesterday she’d see us off?  _

You had, while eating ice cream the day before, promised you’d see them one last time.  _ Grabbing coffee - omw now❤  _ “Uh, maybe I should get going,” you told the super soldiers. “Before I miss them leaving.” 

“I can give you lift, if you want,” offered Steve. “It might be faster.” 

“I’ll pass, but thanks,” you declined politely. “It was good seeing you guys.” 

“Good to see you too, Doll. One more thing,” said James before you left. “We’re gonna be out for a few days this week on a business trip.” 

A business trip? “Oh.  _ Oh _ . How long?” you asked, looking between them. “Wait, are you guys leaving today, too?” 

“We’re leaving on Tuesday,” said Steve. “If all goes well, we should be back on Friday.” 

_ If all goes well… _ “And if it doesn’t?” you prodded warily. 

“We might have raincheck next week,” he said apologetically. 

You bit your lip. This was their job. You knew that. At the same time… You had so much you wanted to say, so many questions. But according to the clock on your phone, you didn’t have the time for that. 

“I shouldn’t have sprung that on you,” said James, watching your reaction. “Bad timing.”

“Why don’t we walk you to the school? We can talk on the way,” said Steve.

You agreed quickly. Too many questions were swirling in your head. 

“So… who’s all going?” you asked. You were sandwiched between them, but walking enough in front of them that you were still leading the way. 

“Nat’s busy so Tony’s coming to help with tech. Both of us, obviously. Sam. And, uh, a couple friends,” shrugged Steve. 

_ Friends… agents? _ “Okay… Are you guys gonna be able to text? Or call?” 

“Not likely,” said James. “We’ll let you know when we get back, though.” 

You nodded. “Am I allowed to ask where?” 

“You wouldn’t get an answer if you did,” said Steve. 

Could’ve just said no. “Be sure to try the coffee, wherever it is you go, then.” 

“You’ve got an unhealthy obsession with coffee,” commented James. “What, do you want to be a coffee connoisseur?”

A laugh made your face brighten. “As a dream job maybe. But I’m not spending time with Mr. - er, Tony,” you corrected, realizing your surroundings, “and Peter doing nothing.  _ Oh, shut up with your face, James, _ ” you ordered. “I don’t know what dumb thing you’re going to say but I’m not doing that either. Especially not in front of his boss, goodness...” 

“Are you sure? Maybe behind his boss then? I remember that first time you stayed over, you and Peter were pretty giggly in the back of the theater.” 

You refrained from smacking him. “Y’know, maybe you should shut up with your mouth too.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said. “I’m just teasing.” 

“Whatever, we got off topic.” 

“That was the point,” said James. 

You sighed. “Nice try. Y’know- this is going to sound so stupid…” you muttered under your breath. “Just like, don’t worry about rain checking for next week? Just make it back safely, okay?” 

“We’ll try our best, Angel,” said Steve. “It’s just recon, nothing too special.” 

You frowned. “Don’t lie, they wouldn’t be sending you all out if that was the case,” you said. “If it were you and a team of ‘friends,’ as you put it earlier, maybe I’d fall for that. There’s no way they send all of you out for something if it were easy.” 

Both of them fell silent and you knew you’d called them out. You were saved from the awkwardness by an incoming call.  _ History Buddy  _

You hurried to answer. “Hey Peter.” 

“Smooth,” snickered James. You rolled your eyes.

From the other side of the line, Peter said “Hey y/n! Um… Are you almost here? We’ll be leaving soon and we’re wondering where you are.” 

“Did you bring me coffee? Cuz you should’ve,” said MJ. 

You smiled. “Sorry, but I had to high tail it out of the shop to get there on time. I’m almost there. I’ll buy you something when you get back, MJ,” you promised. “When are you guys leaving? Are you all there?” 

“Yeah. Did you sleep in? I know you said you’ve been taking up longer shifts recently,” said Peter. “You really should get some sleep.”

“No, I’m fine, I just… Had another thing,” you said, not sure what to call your coffee date. “Hey, look to your left. Your other left, Peter, MJ got it right.” You waved to the other girl. You ran up the rest of the street, carefully slowing to check the crosswalks but otherwise not breaking stride. 

You gave MJ a quick hug, neither of you very touchy feely, but getting used to each other. Peter also got a quick hug, which left you blushing. “Where’s Ned?” you wondered. 

There was a call of “over here” behind you, and you turned to see Ned already on the bus. The top of the window was cracked open. “Here, hi-five.” He placed his hand on the glass and you reached to meet it on the opposite side.

“Ew, gross,” you said as you dusted your hand off on your pants. “Those windows are filthy.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t’ve suggested that,” said MJ. She grimaced down at your hand. “It’s good to see you though. Sucks that you didn’t bring me coffee.” 

“I already said I’ll buy you some when you all get back.” 

“Yeah, I’m just making sure you don’t forget it.” 

Someone behind Peter cleared their throat and you looked up. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything for you kids,” May said. “Y/n, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you. Are you looking forward to the trip?” she asked politely. 

“Oh, I’m not going. Just here to see them off.” 

“That’s sweet of you. Peter, could I borrow you for a minute? Just want to make sure you have everything.” 

“But we checked right before we left,” he argued. 

“For my peace of mind.”

“Fine,” he sighed. He sent you an apologetic smile. Oh the things that smile does to your heart _. _ Or was that just the caffeine in your system? You smiled back. 

“You have it so bad for him, don’t you?” observed MJ. 

Your eyes snapped to her. “What- what’re you talking about?” 

One eyebrow rose. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” 

You stared in shock. “Wait… That’s all you’re going to say? Aren’t you two… I dunno, dating or something?” 

“Oh no,” she said. “Definitely not.” 

“But you and him went to prom together. And hoco before that.” 

“As friends. Let’s just say you’re closer to my type than he is.”

“ _ Oh. _ ” Well, you certainly learn something new every day. 

“Yeah. My girlfriend couldn’t make it. It’s a long distance thing. We keep it pretty private,” she said. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t try and find some international fling while we’re away.” 

Your face heated. “Um, well, thanks, I guess?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t find a new friend group while we’re gone,” she instructed. 

“I won’t. And Peter said he’d call so… You won’t go too long without hearing from me,” you said. “Where was it you’re going?” 

“It’s a long list,” she said, pulling a packet from her bag. 

She let you look through the itinerary, casually mentioning how the school even made an app for the trip.  _ Spain, France, Italy, Germany, the Netherlands, and England. _ Some days had breakfast in one country and dinner in another. “Impressive.” You handed the papers back. “Take pictures, have fun.” 

“We will.” 

“Last five minutes,” announced a teacher. “Say your goodbyes and get on the bus, kids.” 

MJ hooked her thumb to the teacher. “That’s my cue.” 

“Right. See you in a few weeks.” 

“Yep. You better have coffee next time I see you!” she said, poking her head out the bus doors.

“I will!” You scanned the remaining students for Peter and he came within your sites a moment later. He jogged over. 

“You promise me you’ll call?” you checked. “Cuz otherwise I just lied to MJ about hearing from me.” 

An easy laugh left him. “Yeah, I promise.” He retrieved his phone and held it up so you could see the Stark logo on the back. “Word has it that this can get signal from anywhere

so we’re good.” 

“Okay. Well… You should probably get going.” 

He glanced back. “Yeah, probably. One last hug?” he requested, rubbing his neck. 

You gave him a hug. A real one where you both wrapped your arms entirely around each other. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

“It’s only a couple of weeks. And you’ll visit while I’m gone, right? Mr. Stark got those lights for your bike, he wanted me to tell you, and I think he’ll actually want some company, too,” he rambled. 

“Yes, I’ll visit them when I can,” you promised. “Now go, before they leave without you!” 

He gave you a boyish grin as he departed. Kids crowded the side of the bus to wave to their families and you waved goodbye to your three friends. 

You meandered back to where Steve and James had been watching from afar.

“That was cute,” quipped James as you made your way back to the cafe. “You got a whole two hugs from him.”

You wished you could stop smiling. You did get two hugs from Peter, but… “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to find a way to make you.”

“Only Steve can say that.”

“Bucky!” protested Steve, his ears growing red.

“Okay, I did not need that. I’m leaving,” you said, picking up the pace. 

“Don’t be like that.” He slung an arm around your shoulder to stop you. A part of you didn’t mind, but you still ended up shrugging it off.

“Don’t you guys have bags to pack, anyways?” you joked.

“Are you trying to get rid of us, Doll?” 

“No, just you.” 

James gasped dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest. “Oh, how you wound me.” 

“Yeah, whatever. You’re a super soldier; you’ll heal in like a day.” 

Steve guffawed and James’ mouth dropped. “You’re gonna catch flies, Jamie.” His mouth shut with a click. “Oh, look, I got you to shut up.” 

“You’re a menace,” said James. 

“That goes perfectly against Steve calling me an angel, and you know what? I’m both.”

“And overconfident,” said Steve. 

“On my good days.” 

You continued making small talk with them on the walk back to their bikes, which was mostly just you telling them what errands you had to run. Grocery shopping, cashing in a check from work (for some reason the automatic deposit was malfunctioning, so Scott had printed off everyone’s paychecks), and some school work. All in all, it was a great start to your day, and hopefully a great start to a good week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am indeed here for Lesbian Icon Michelle Jones. I kinda want to know who she’s dating, don’t you? Too bad the next few chapters have more important things going on.  
> Also: I was gonna hold off on this chapter but there's no reason to make you all wait for it. I’ll save the drama for when I need it... I'm just thinking of everyone last week, when they read “triple update” (Comments like: I have collapsed. I have died. That is me; that is my corpse upon your floor…) 😂 You’re all so funny. I think we should all know that if I wanted to do anything *drastic* it’d be with a single update...
> 
> Fun Fact, I tried watching Avengers Endgame recently. For the first time. I stopped watching after ~30 min bc I had to keep pausing bc it made me feel too much. I know all the spoilers but it just made me feel too much. So I still haven't watched The End, and I'm okay with that. This fic doesn't follow canon anyways. 😂


	41. Chapter 41

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you pick a lock.  
> SEVERE TW: This is a generally heavy chapter, with descriptions of verbal and physical abuse. As always, read with discretion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited this so many times... Imagine deleting three chapters of work. Whole chapters. TWICE. But this? The result? Somehow everything I never knew I needed and yet always knew it would sort of end up.

Peter had been gone for nearly a week. He had sent you a photo every day of the trip and even managed to video call you with Ned and MJ a couple of times. The time difference had cut one call short when your father had awoken in the middle of the night and came to check on you, but it had still been a good experience. Regardless, Peter stopped calling you first thing in the morning (his time) and you had rescheduled for something easier to manage.

During his absence, Natasha ended up creating a training schedule for you. These new sessions were much more focused and left you tired but proud, and usually ended with you and Natasha relaxing in the main lounge. She was the only person around beside Dr. Banner and Loki (who you hadn't dared approach since the fateful day you'd met him). 

Steve, James, Sam, and Tony had only completed their mission earlier that day and were currently on their way back, which meant they’d be on time for Super Soldier Sunday. That was for Sunday, though. At the moment, you were with Natasha, who was once again walking you home after a girls’ day out. Today you had met Agent Maria Hill, who was just as stunning as the other two women you spent time with. She had also insisted you call her Maria to keep everyone on a first name basis. It was a day out, after all, you were supposed to be relaxed. 

Pepper had treated you all to a spa day, which allowed for plenty of talking. Between you, Natasha, and Pepper, Maria was caught up on the events at the tower in no time. Unfortunately, the day once again passed by faster than you wanted it to. While you didn’t want it to come to an end, you had a shift that night, so you had to go.

Natasha was telling you about what the week’s training plans were when you turned the corner and froze. Your father’s car was parked in its spot… But that couldn’t be right. _That couldn’t be his car._ He was never home before ten p.m. on a weekend. _How could that be his car?_ Your mind immediately went into overdrive, trying to figure out how to best handle the situation. 

Natasha had stopped with you. “Y/n? Hey, what’s up?” 

You shook your head to clear it, but still ended up detached from the moment, your eyes locked on the car. Something was about to go very, very badly. “Nothing. I’m fine. My car- I mean, my apartment, it’s just over there. I’ll be fine from here.” You tore your eyes away from the vehicle to give Natasha a cheery smile. “Thanks for today though, I really appreciated it.” 

No matter what you said, she insisted on walking you to the door of the building. A glance up to the window facing the street showed you exactly what you had feared: your father was waiting for you. The curtain fell back into place as he left.

He was eerily calm when you entered. “You went out.” 

“Yes, sir,” you said quietly.

“Bought something nice, had fun?” 

You didn’t say anything. The spa had sent you home with a gift bag that you were clutching tightly. Of course no day could’ve gone so perfect.

  
“Answer me!” he barked. 

“Yes, sir,” you choked out. You had brought home far less from this trip than you had from the time before, but that didn’t matter. The time before, you hadn’t been caught. You had a few new accessories and a bottle of perfume that you prayed would remain intact. 

“What’d you buy, hm?” He ripped the bag from your hand. “Jewelry? Perfume? Going out to spend my money? You thought I wouldn’t notice?” 

He tossed the bag away and you heard a shatter. You took a slow, shaky breath. Not intact then.  
  
“I work every day so I can put food on this table and a roof over your head and you do this? Where the hell did you get that money, huh? Do you take me for an idiot? I know that shit’s expensive. Who was that? That you were with?” 

You were not going to cry. He’d only use it against you. You forced your emotions down to reply with a numb “I was out with a friend from school, we split the cost.” Hopefully he hadn’t got a good enough view of her to catch you lying.

“Who?”

“Her name is Natalie.” That answer came easier than expected.

He forced you against the wall. “What did I tell you about going out without my permission?” 

“Not to,” you whispered, pain coursing up your arm from his grip. “Lieutenant, please, I can pay for it, but I have to get to work to do that. And people will be suspicious if I don’t show up.”

That got him to back off. “Put your shit away and get out of here. I have friends coming over tonight.” 

Friends? He’d never mentioned anything to you before, but it certainly explained his early arrival. You numbly retrieved your things on your return to your room. A simple glance inside the bag confirmed your suspicions: the perfume bottle was shattered. Then, you dressed for work. You knew you were bound to be tired by the night’s end, but this wasn’t what you’d had in mind. 

You put on a cheery disposition for your coworkers. At least two of them saw right through it and Scott didn’t look like he’d let it slide either. Surely enough, you heard a knock at the door of the break room while you were putting away your phone and keys, the only things you’d brought along with you beside your jacket. Lauren entered first, with Xavier right behind her. 

“Hey, guys,” you smiled. 

They both just looked at you sadly. “Y/n,” began Lauren. “You know you can tell us what’s wrong, right?” 

Xavier, the good friend and future-politician he was, built off of the statement. “And before you say nothing is wrong, your eyes are red.” 

“Just Lieutenant Hardass,” you disclosed. They, along with Scott, knew the bare-bones of your situation. Your father was strict and made you pay for your phone and half of rent. Scott was the one to come up with the nickname.

“What’s he asking for this time?” questioned Xavier, angry on your behalf. “Seriously, doesn’t he take enough?”

“He’s not asking for anything, thankfully. He got mad that I went out for a day,” you explained somberly as you tied your hair back. “He yelled a lot.”

“There’s probably not a word he said that was true. Don’t focus on it,” advised Lauren. “Do you want some break time? We all know Scott would let you relax in here if you wanted.”

Speak of the devil… “That I would,” he said. “I was just straightening some things at the bar. You alright, y/n?” 

“Yeah, thanks. I’d rather work, if I’m being honest. I don’t really want to sit around and think about it.” 

Scott gave you a single nod. “Take it easy today. Lauren, you’re hosting, you make sure that she does.”

“Of course,” she agreed. 

You gave Lauren a quick hug and quickly finished up with what you needed so that you could start your shift.

Work passed in a haze. There were regulars, a few new faces, and some that were in between. As was normal. Scott must’ve talked to the chefs again, because your usual bag of fries seemed to be endless. The food in the kitchen was delicious as always, and you had been handed two specialty brownies during your break, along with a refreshing cup of juice. You still had to go home after your shift was over, though, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up in your bed. You freed your hair from its updo as you left, trying to relax as much as possible as soon as possible.

The first thing you noticed upon entering was the dim lights and hushed voices. Your father came out into the foyer by himself a moment later as you hung up your jacket.

“What the fuck are you doing back?” he lashed out quietly. You caught him tuck away something dark and gleaming. “I told you I had friends coming over.” 

“I didn’t think they’d be staying. I just finished with work,” you defended. _Is he holding a gun..? Did he think I broke in? He hadn’t even latched the door, dumbass._

“Get out,” he ordered. 

“What?” 

“I said _get out_.”

The words ran through your mind. “Sir, I- I’ll stay in my room-” 

“It’s being used for the night,” he growled, stepping closer. 

He couldn’t do this to you. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. He had done a lot, but this? Renting out your room? “What do you mean-” you started possessively. 

You were cut off by a fist around your neck, pushing you against a wall. “Don’t you fucking dare raise your voice at me. You hear me?” His hand tightened with the question. You nodded once, a feat that was nearly impossible, and he released you. “Scram. Now.” 

You grabbed your keys and phone from where they’d dropped and hurried out. You could hear the chain of the door slide into place as you wrestled for a breath. 

This had happened exactly once before. Well, not this exact situation, but being kicked out. That time, you didn’t have your keys. This time, you did, but that didn’t change much. That time you didn’t have a plan for such a thing. This time, you did, which changed everything.

You made your way out into the cold night, the New York wind biting straight through your clothes. You swore. You should've stopped for your jacket. Oh well. You had to be fast, and the cold was just motivation to do so. Around the edge of the building, in the alleyway, there was a fire escape that led right up to your room. 

Someone clever, long before your need for it, had loosened a pattern of bricks that one could use to climb up. How they did it was a mystery to you, but the building was old anyways. With the aid of some plastic crates and the rock-wall-esque side of the building, you made it up with minimal struggling. Now for the next part. Up to your windows.

Three and a half years ago, on the third anniversary of your mother's death, you'd been thrown out. You spent the December night in the hallway, uncomfortably curled up with nothing but your pajamas on. After that, you'd made a plan to pick up one handy skill, the tools for which were hidden behind another loose brick that you'd hammered at all those years ago with no regard to the building's structural integrity. 

You grabbed the lockpicking kit from its hiding spot beside the glass entry and attempted to peer past the curtains. The light was off and you saw no movement but you were still worried. Hopefully the guy your dad was renting out to was still in the living room. 

Your mind flashed back to the gun your father had hidden. It had definitely been a gun. You spent enough time around them to know, both with your father and more recently with Nat, who had taken the time to show you some different types. Since you knew it was a gun, you knew another fact: if you were caught, you were as good as dead. Then again, if the guy who had the room for the night was nosy, you were probably also as good as dead. 

You glanced down at your phone and took a deep breath. _Last chance_ , your mind supplied. _Send your goodbyes while you can._ Someone texting you was the last thing you needed. That'd distract you. So you silenced your phone and tucked it into your back pocket. You had to be quick, before your hands started shaking from the cold. 

The windows had a different lock than the doors, which was exactly what made your keys useless, but you had practice picking the lock. That didn't mean you weren't rusty after years of not using the skill. You hissed a swear as your hands slipped. _Get yourself together, y/n._ And then, you could almost hear Natasha's training voice. **Your greatest strength and your greatest weakness is your mind. You’re smart but you think too much. Just let it happen. Set your feet. Set your hands. But if you don't set your head, you're gonna mess up every time.**

Set your head. The cold wasn't important right now. You had to get your stuff and get out. Don't worry about anything after that. Get your stuff. Get out. Get your stuff. Get out. Get your stuff. Get out. 

You opened the windows often to air out your room. The lock was well taken care of to avoid sticking (just a tiny bit of the grease you'd bought for your bike had gone a long way). Just a little more and… _Click._ You let out a breath of relief as you felt it open. First part done. 

You slid the window open ever so slowly until you could reach the curtain and pull it back a few inches. Empty. You pushed the window further open, still wary of the noise, and moved inside. The warmth came as a relief, but you couldn't dilly-dally. Backpack. Wallet went in first. The pictures you had hidden joined. Your current engineering sketchbook, too. You had the experience to move silently. Your ears were honed in on every noise; listening for any step, any voices growing louder, any sound that would indicate someone getting closer, but the noise was just that. Whatever the conversation was, the topic barely crossed your mind. _Get your stuff._

The back of your closet was a space you hadn't visited in a long time. You shoved aside the old pajamas and retrieved the lockbox from it's spot, sliding the entire thing into your bag. You glanced around once more. There was no telling when you'd be back. _Get your stuff._ Your phone charger joined your items. Your emergency cash went in too, along with the jewelry from your mom and some makeup. You took a random assortment of clothes, mostly folded ones (less noisy hangers and you were careful to close the drawers softly), and stuffed them into the bag, filling it as much as you could. 

The thought of not returning terrified you. Another line of Natasha's advice came back. **There's no time to be nervous when you're fighting. Nervousness causes hesitation, and that can kill you.** Is that what this was now? A fight? 

_Get your stuff._ You grabbed Natasha's scarf on the way to the window. _Get out._ You went through the window first and pulled your bag after you. You were out. Fix the curtain. Slide the window back down… you'd leave it unlocked. The lockpicking kit went into your bag, the brick shoved into place. 

Anything else important? _Your mug collection is gonna be so lonely_ . Shit. Your mug from Mr. Stark… Hopefully you could come back for it. What else? You moved down the fire escape, certain that there was nothing from the apartment that you could get now. _Get out_. 

You felt like you could hear everything. Your breathing was short, and you were certain that it wasn't just the cold making you shake or your heart wouldn't be beating out your chest the way it was. _Fucking adrenaline,_ some part of your brain recognized, _not the damn time._

Gravel crunched beneath your feet once more as you left the metal staircase. _Get out. Go._ You slid on one of the sweaters you had grabbed and finally took the time to wrap Natasha's decorative scarf around your neck. You had your phone. Your wallet and ID. Your keys - your useless keys, the only thing they'd be able to open was the storage at this point. Did you have anything in storage? Just your bike.

Yeah, that'd be handy. Maybe you'd stay down there with it in storage. You found the flaw in your plan as soon as you entered. No, bad idea, too cold, no space to lie down. What could you do with your bike? Travel, duh. To where? School. Work. The tower. 

The tower. You looked between your phone and your bike. A half hour. You knew that it'd only take a half hour, maybe even less because of the lack of traffic. But would you call before or after those thirty minutes. _What if you get there and they don't let you in? What if they don’t want you there? Where would you go?_ But could you handle rejection now, of all times, if you called? It wasn't like it'd be better in thirty minutes- or maybe it would. You'd be there around 1:30 in the morning - how was it already 1 a.m? Was it really a whole 45 minutes since you’d left work? Was it really only 45 minutes? You snatched your helmet from where it was resting and jammed it on before moving your bike out. 

What would you do when you got there- if you got there? Who would you call? Who _could_ you call? Whose number did you even have? Who would pick up if you called?

_Probably James_ . Some logical part of your mind supplied, even though he literally just got back less than twelve hours ago. _Probably still your best bet._

Unlike the last time you had rode at night, the skies were clear. Cars were rarely behind you and passed you easily. You didn't want to slow down, but your vision was blurring. You moved onto the empty sidewalks. Why was everything so hazy? You weren't that tired. You stopped for a second to rub your eyes, and your hands came away wet. You weren't tired, you were crying. Actually, you were both. Thick tears rolled as you finally realized how _tired_ you were. Physically and emotionally, you were drained. All you had wanted was a good day. Just a good day, even if it wasn’t perfect, you’d accept it. All you had wanted was to go to your room and sleep after work. You couldn’t even have that. 

When your tears had finally slowed to a point where you weren’t continuously swiping at your eyes, you continued your travel. A few minutes later, you rolled to a stop beside the same side door you’d been using since May. There were so many things that you couldn’t have. You clutched your mom’s old tag, rubbing your thumb against the engravings. _This. Could you have this?_ If James didn’t answer, who would you call? Should you call anyone? What would you do? And didn’t you have a coffee date? Would you even go if he didn’t answer? 

  
**You think too much.** You unlocked your phone. The battery was nearly dead. Would you be able to spend a night on the street if he didn’t answer? You had your charger. You’d just need a 24/7 store or a restaurant, really, to charge it, you didn’t have to be on the streets all night. **You think too much.** The contacts app was open. _Jamie_ , right beside a picture of black coffee. **You think too much.** The contact page switched to the call screen when you pressed the phone icon. **You think too much.** You held the device to your ear. It rang. And rang. And rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I’m evil. I’m sorry… I remember one of my first double updates (The party with Flash) I was like “Now is not the time for readers to die on the cliffie” because I was saving the drama for _this_ update.  
> Now y'all know I had a little more up my sleeve than just the Steve angst. *chuckles nervously* I probably broke your hearts when you least expected it. I told y’all, I can do it with a single update… I warned you. Here's another warning: There's More Angst. This ain't it. There's so much more. Like, _this is literally 10 pages long of almost straight angst_ and there's more. 
> 
> Also, _No,_ I am definitely not legitimately crying right now. *sniffs* someone must be cutting onions nearby. 
> 
> Last note I want to share: I went back and forth about whether to make this a stand alone or not, but... It took so long to write and perfect and just... There's so much to this chapter. I know I left y'all hanging but there's sooo muuuch. Not even just page wise. I don't want y'all rushing to the next chapter when there's so much to appreciate here!  
> So, I wanna know what you all caught and think and love and hate! As always, please leave a comment and thank you so much for reading!!


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky nearly has a heart attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, if I'm up at _Way-Too-Early_ a.m, pulling an all nighter stressing and cram studying for finals, I might as well give y'all this extra update. I really might as well. Will it mess up my update schedule of late night Friday/Early AF saturday? Perhaps. But Winter Break would've started that saturday anyways so whatever. It's okay to mess it up a little. YOLO. (You're still getting an update on Saturday, don't worry.)
> 
> While I'm here: **I'm dedicating this chapter to anyone else who ~~has~~ hates finals right now. We're all struggling. Go us. **
> 
> Anyways... Y’all have been waiting for this one... Like, day 1 of the fic waiting for this one… But also since last Saturday too. So! Here we go :D

Bucky and Steve had been trained to sleep lightly, which was exactly why they were both awake the minute Bucky’s phone began to ring. Bucky groaned. “This better be important.” 

He reached over to his phone to check the caller ID, frowning when he saw who it was. His eyes snapped up to the time before he answered. “Y/n?” He could feel Steve shifting beside him. 

A shaky breath, nearly a sob, came through. It made Bucky’s spine straighten. By the way Steve had moved, he’d caught it too. “Y/n? Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Uh, could- could you tell FRIDAY to unlock the side door, but any chance?” she said hoarsely.

“Unlock the side-  _ y/n, are you outside the tower? _ ” he shouted frantically. It was nearly two in the morning. 

End tone. “Oh, you’re kidding me. You are fucking kidding me. She  _ did not.. _ . FRIDAY is y/n outside?” he questioned as he redialled.

“It appears so, sir. She’s at the usual entrance.”

“Unlock the door,” he ordered, tossing off the covers and sprinting out of the room. “And bring up the elevator.” 

His ride down was far too slow for his liking and y/n  _ wasn’t picking up _ and it was driving him crazy. He could see her sitting beside the door as he approached and he shoved it open. “Y/n?” 

She startled, revealing the bag she’d been holding in front of her.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

She hesitated. “No.” 

“Get in,” he ordered. If she was okay enough to lie, she was probably fine to move, and then he could assess her for himself. He took the bag from her. She entered and kicked her bike stand down. The helmet was hanging on one handle. Bucky let the door close behind them. He left the bag on the floor.

She flinched from his hands as he moved her face up so they were eye to eye. He could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Be honest,  _ are you hurt _ ?” 

She shook her head. “’m fine.” 

“Then  _ are you crazy _ ? Why aren’t you at home? Do you know how much you scared me? It’s nearly two in the morning!” he scolded, gripping her shoulders tightly. 

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I know. I know, I’m sorry.” 

“I’m going to need more of an explanation than that. Do you realize how much  _ danger  _ you just put yourself into? What the hell made you think this was a good idea?” 

She took a shaky breath. “I got kicked out,” she revealed. Bucky’s heart dropped.  _ Of course she’d have a reason to be here.  _ He had just told Steve a couple weeks ago that y/n didn’t just disregard rules. She opened her eyes to meet his gaze once more, revealing her glossy y/e/c eyes. “I just need a place to stay for the night, and- and I thought since I have a r- a room here-” She broke off in sobs and hung her head, hands coming up to cover her face. “’m sorry.” 

Bucky was able to move before he was able to speak, and he pulled her close to him. Y/n continued her apologies as she returned his embrace, clutching the back of his cotton shirt as she pressed against him. She was kicked out. She needed a place to go, and she had come to the tower, and the first thing Bucky had done was yell at her. 

“No, no, no. Don't be sorry. It's okay. Shh… It’s okay. I am so sorry. I’ve got you, Doll. It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize,” he said quietly, comforting her until the apologies tapered down. “Come on, Steve is probably worrying like crazy. Leave your bike here, it’ll be fine until the morning.” Bucky slung the bag over his shoulder and led her to the elevator.

She was tucked into his side the entire journey to their apartment. Bucky certainly didn’t mind. After the heart attack she had given him when she hung up, it was reassuring.  _ She’s here. She’s safe _ . He gave Steve a couple warning knocks before entering. 

“Thank God,” were the first two words to leave Steve’s mouth. “You’re both okay, right?” 

He met them halfway between the door and the living room, where he had undoubtedly been pacing. “We’re fine,” answered Bucky. “Y/n’s spending the night. She got kicked out.” 

Steve practically deflated. “Oh, Angel.” 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, swiping at a stray tear. “I didn’t mean to wake either of you up.”

“No… listen to me, we would much rather wake up and have you safe than sleep and have you spend a night on the streets, okay?” said Steve softly. Y/n nodded. “Come on, sit down, let's get you warmed up. I had the kettle on since Buck left, it should be done by now. I’ll be right back.” 

* * *

You kicked off your shoes - something you’d forgotten to do in the doorway - and curled up on the couch. James grabbed a blanket from a nearby cabinet and handed it to you. You wrapped it around your shoulders before rubbing at them with a wince. Your right shoulder had always been sensitive to pain, ever since the accident, but it was a testament to James’ strength that your left shoulder ached almost as bad.

The action didn’t escape James’ notice. “I thought you said you weren’t hurt.” 

You looked away guiltily. “I’m fine.” 

“Your shoulder is bothering you, don’t lie to me.” 

You pulled the blanket tighter and avoided meeting his gaze. 

“You didn’t mention it when I-'' He froze. You spared him a glance. He had a hand pressed to the bridge of his nose. “It was my fault, wasn’t it? When I grabbed you… You shoulda told me I was hurtin’ you,” he said tightly, his Brooklyn accent defined in his emotional state. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologized again. 

“No, wait, this is my fault. And I’m sorry.” He was kneeling in front of you now, trying to catch your eye. 

“You didn’t mean to.” 

“That’s no excuse. Whether I meant it or not, I hurt you, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been more aware.” 

You swiped at another escaped tear. “It’s okay. I’m fine.” 

“It’s not okay. If I ever hurt you like that again, you need to let me know,” he beseeched. “ _ Ever _ .” 

“Okay,” you replied. 

“Promise me.” 

“I promise,” you whispered as Steve returned with a tray of three plain mugs. Your heart ached for your collection at home. 

“Chamomile with honey,” Steve announced, setting the tray onto the table. He handed you your cup. Bucky retrieved his, settling in his place on the floor as Steve sat on the larger couch adjacent to yours. For a few seconds, the three of you were just sitting around with your drinks. It was almost normal. “Do you mind if I ask why you got kicked out?” 

You shook your head. “The lieutenant- my father - he had friends over.” The slip up barely registered after the events of the night. He had kicked you out, what did it matter if they knew? They were going to learn plenty tonight anyways. “I guess he rented out my room or something.” The cup in your hands was pleasantly warm. Your eyes focused on the rising steam, keeping you from zoning out entirely. 

“So he told you to pack up and-” you were already shaking your head. 

“I grabbed the bag after. This isn’t… after the first time, I hid a lockpick kit near my window. It’s not the same as the door lock, and I didn’t have a key for it so I learned to pick the lock. The only thing I had when I first left were my phone and door keys. They were all busy talking about some sort of business deal, I guess.”  _ You should mention the gun. _ The dangerous glint flashed through your head. It stayed only in your head though. “I just shoved stuff into my bag and left.” 

“When you say stuff-” 

“You can go through it,” you told them, waving at the bag near James’ feet. “No, really, we probably should. It’s a blur. I didn’t really prepare to get kicked out... That’s my lockpicking kit. Clothes. School stuff.” You laughed weakly, but settled for a smile after your throat panged. “I mean, school’s essential, I guess.” The ridiculous thought somehow made the situation more bearable. Steve held up a small box, unwrapping the sweater that was cushioning it. You had taken the time to wrap it in a sweater? You didn’t remember that. “Uh, jewelry box.” You took it from him gently. “I uh…” God, your neck hurt. “I didn't think I was going back.”

“And you’d be right to,” said James, watching you massage your neck. His eyes narrowed and you pulled the scarf up. “Y/n…” he warned. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“If it were nothing, you wouldn’t have said that.” Damn it. “Take off the scarf.” You fumbled to pull the blanket higher. “Now, y/n.” 

You untied the scarf, head tilted down shamefully. That didn’t matter, because James had moved to the side ever so slightly, and you knew the bruising was starting to show. 

“You told me you weren’t hurt,” he said, gently tilting your chin up. Was that betrayal or disbelief in his tone? It was hard to tell. Maybe it was both. “You told me  _ twice _ . A bruise on your neck counts as hurt.” He let go of your chin. “Look at me.” He waited for you to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you mention this? He choked you?” 

You gave him a shrug. You weren’t really sure. “It didn’t seem important.”

“It didn’t seem- He could’ve killed you!” raged James.

Well, you knew that  _ long  _ before he pointed it out. You pulled the blanket closer around you.

“Angel, just give us the whole story.” 

“That-” You huffed. “Fine. Whole story. I came in from girls day and he was mad that I left without telling him. He tossed my stuff across the room and told me about his friends and I told him I had to get to work. I came back from work and- and his friends were over.” You wet your lips before continuing. “And he came out to the hall. And he-” _Say it._ _Say it!_ You screwed your eyes shut. You forced the words out in one breath. “He may or may not have put away a gun.” 

“ _ What _ ?” 

You plowed past the interruption. “Then, he kicked me out. I got upset and raised my voice, which was why he... grabbed my neck. After that, I left and I told you all the rest.” 

“Why did you go back in there?” demanded Steve. “You should’ve called someone the second you realized you could get hurt, or worse!”

“I had to get my stuff!” 

“Stuff? Stuff. Are you crazy? That’s not worth your life.” James gestured wildy to the bag.

“Yes it is!” you yelled. “If the lieutenant found out, then they were all gone and I was as good as dead anyways.” 

“You think something like this-” Steve snatched the box from your lap. 

“Hey!” you cried, lunging for it. Tea spilled from your mug, still mostly full. He pulled his arm back, eyes widening as you hastened to set the mug down. “No! Don’t! Don’t. Please, don’t.” There was a seashell necklace you knew was in that box. Handmade, you had collected the shells yourself. Casual, you wore it to summer events. That was the only reason it wasn’t in the lockbox. But it was fragile. It would not survive a careless toss, much less an intentional throw. You had hidden the whole box from your father for that exact reason. “Please don’t break it,” you begged in a small voice.

He looked like he suddenly saw that you would actually give your life for those artifacts. “I wasn’t going to break it.” Very slowly, he set it down on the coffee table. You scrambled for it. 

The necklace was still in one piece. Nine shells strung together with a rainbow thread. Nine, for how old you were when you had collected them. You had given your mom what you had claimed were the nine prettiest shells on the whole beach. And she had made a necklace from them. That was the last beach trip you took with her.

Behind you it was very, very quiet. You were shaking, sitting on the wet floor in front of the box, spilled tea soaking into your pants. You couldn’t even kneel. You weren’t sure if the tears on your face were relief or despair. “These are some of the  _ only  _ things I have left of my mom.  _ I can’t lose them too. _ ”

The only sound in the room was your sniffling as you swiped at the tears rolling down your face.

Someone sighed. “I’m sorry. That was careless of me.” Probably Steve. “Our emotions are all running high. Maybe it’s better if we get some sleep for now. If you want to, you can sleep up here, we’ve got a spare room.” 

_ You don’t have to spend the night alone _ . You nodded.    
  


“Come on, I’ll show you to the bathroom. You can wash up and change.” 

You followed James and thanked him shortly. The makeup you had on since the end of the spa day had come apart entirely. There were streams of mascara down your face, and smudged eyeshadow that you scrubbed at diligently until your face felt raw, but clean. After that, you went about your normal routine as much as you could until you were in something comfortable enough to sleep in. Clean clothes were always nice. One last look at your reflection. You should’ve grabbed a comb on your way out.  _ No use thinking about that now _ . You placed the clothes you’d been wearing into the bag with the rest of your things. 

There was a knock at the door.  _ You’re taking too long _ . You opened it. Steve was holding a new toothbrush and toothpaste. “I don’t know if you brought your own so…” 

You hadn’t. Come to think of it, you didn’t have any toiletries. “Thanks,” you accepted. “I’ll just be a couple minutes if that’s okay.” 

“Take your time. I’ll be in the living room.” 

You removed the toothbrush from its box and quickly brushed your teeth. You left the items at the side of the sink. And just like that, you had finished all you needed to do. Time to find Steve. 

Your bag was slung over one shoulder as you padded to the living room. He was mopping up the tea you’d spilled. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“Sorry about that.” 

He glanced down. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll, uh, show you the rest of the apartment.” He led you down the hallway. There was a half-bath at the very end of the hall for visitors. Opposite to it was Steve and James’ office. Just past the half bath, and before the doorway to the full bath that James had shown you to, was apparently James’ old room, which was right across from the room that the couple now shared. 

“Is James mad at me?” you asked meekly. 

Steve spun around, nearly causing you to crash into him. “No, of course not. Why do you think he’d be mad at you?” 

You shrugged and looked around at the very James-free space. 

“Neither of us are mad at you, Angel. We were worried for you, but definitely not mad at you.” 

You moved forward slowly until you were wrapping your arms around Steve. One of his hands came up to smooth back your hair. “I didn’t mean to worry you.” 

“Yeah, well… We’re glad you’re safe.” Your head was resting against his chest and you felt when he took a deep breath. “I am  _ so  _ sorry we didn’t get you out sooner. And the things I accused you of last time you came over, I would take back every last word if I could.” 

“You didn’t know,” you excused. 

“We saw the signs and we didn’t ask.” James had just exited the room they shared. “Not really, at least. We should have.”

“I would’ve said no,” you countered. “And then I would've stopped coming over.” Who knows where you would be now if that were the case.

Steve continued to smooth your hair down as you pressed into his chest one more. You were all cried out for one night, now you were just tired. “There’s nothing we can do about the past except learn from it,” he said. He held you for a little longer. “Come on, before you fall asleep standing up.” You glanced down to your feet as he swiped under his eyes and led you to the final door.

Similarly to your room downstairs, there were floor to ceiling windows, but here they were spread out evenly. The exception was a large trapezoid with glass doors. You stepped towards it, wondering why that was, before the realization came to you. If you walked out those doors, you’d be standing in the middle of the “A” on the side of the tower. “The view is amazing.”

“Sure is. Don’t spend too much time over there; get some sleep, alright?” said Steve. 

“Alright. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. Goodnight, Doll.”

“Goodnight,” you bade the supersoldiers. The door clicked shut and you looked around the room once more, really trying to take it in. There was a desk in the corner, on the other side of what you ascertained was a walk in closet (empty but for some spare sheets and blankets). You plugged your phone into a nearby outlet to charge facedown on the desk before looking back. The double bed followed a patriotic color scheme: there were two pillows of each color, the sheets were white with a red edging, and the duvet was navy blue. 

All you wanted to do was go to bed, but this wasn’t the one you had in mind. It took less than a minute to ruin the magazine-perfect set-up. You moved the blankets onto the floor beside the window to observe the view. You nodded off while counting the cars below. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent so much time visualizing the blanket colors in this chapter than it literally ended up in my dreams. I hope y’all had some ~feelings~ btw :) I know this chapter might not have been as perfect as the last but with my current state of Inner Chaos, it's not getting any better than this XD
> 
> I have a challenge: There is a special object in here that has made an appearance once before… Do you know what it is? What about the chapter it showed up in?


	43. Chapter 43

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve and Bucky make a discovery.  
> Moderate TW: Panic Attack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU DIDN'T READ MY WEDNESDAY UPDATE: Go do that!!! That's all. Pls don't get lost in my fic XD <3  
> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: Pt. 1  
> I’m having way too much of a good time writing these chapters considering how absolutely very serious this is… I told y'all there were four chapters of almost straight angst, right? I did mention that? Because I get the feeling some more people are gonna be crying at the end of this

Steve and Bucky had plenty of experience with sleepless nights. Not that either of them actually needed a full night of sleep to function, but it was nice to have. Both of them were fully awake now, though, and trying to sleep would be futile. 

Bucky refilled their cups of tea. “Who are we talking to first? The whole team? Or should we get started without letting them know?”

“I think Natasha would be our best bet,” Steve sighed. 

“Romanoff implied murder if y/n got hurt.” Not that he  _ didn’t  _ want to kill y/n’s father, but he figured the kid had enough trauma.

“There’s a reason,” said Steve. “Remember that one night when Natasha and Clint told us they had a mission?” 

Bucky lowered his drink slowly. There were very few ways this could go. “Yes.”

“The mission happened to be watching over y/n. That’s the extent of my knowledge, but she’s been a high target for a while.” 

Bucky closed his eyes and drew in a long breath, exhaling slowly. “Please don’t tell me it’s because of us.” 

“It’s not,” assured Steve. “I don’t think so, at least. It had something to do with a computer program. I guess she’s  _ really  _ got a knack for em” 

Well… Bucky had certainly known that. “I’ll say. I never mentioned it but she accidentally got into a S.H.I.E.L.D file the other day.” 

Bucky wore a proud smile. Steve said simply “You’re joking.”

“I’m not. That day with the comics and the broken glass, Stark was letting her mess with a file and she managed to crack it. She thought he was going to kick her out because of it.” A self-satisfied smirk made its way onto Bucky’s face as he watched Steve’s reaction. 

“And this just never happened to come up before now?” 

“Well, neither did y/n being a target,” levelled Bucky. 

Steve acknowledged the statement with a motion that was half-nod, half-shug. “I’ll go give Natasha a call. Living room?” 

“Yeah. Let me know how it goes.” Bucky left Steve with a kiss and went to the living room. He grabbed the book beside the couch and sat down, kicking his feet up on the table in front of him.

A few minutes later, Steve returned with his tablet. “She said she’d look into it. She’s at some sort of stakeout right now. It’s possible she had a bad lead, but she said she’d get to it when she was done.”

Bucky nodded. “Are you working?”

“Might as well. It’s better than pushing it off for later.” 

It was a good plan, but Bucky would much rather just go through his book. So he did. The only sounds for several hours were pages being turned and Steve tapping away at the device in his hand. Occasionally Steve shared more important information with Bucky, trying to formulate an idea of what he wanted to do in the future. The 13th Alliance was a crime syndicate moving slowly into the terrorist category and had thus attracted the attention of S.H.I.E.L.D. Word had it that they were rallying what was left of HYDRA, and there was no way for that to go well. 

Steve was going through a rather helpful list of new members, organizing them by how much of a threat they posed, when he came across something familiar. Logan Y/l/n. He was a part of the organization’s main branch. The file provided a phone contact. 

Steve frowned and pulled up a search for the S.H.I.E.L.D. database. Logan Y/l/n belonged to New York City’s 13th Precinct. Same phone number. One living relative: his daughter, y/n. “Buck.” 

“What?” 

Steve angled the tablet so Bucky could see, pulling the different tabs beside each other. “We might have a problem.” 

Bucky set his book down and scanned through the information. “I thought you said Romanoff was watching her.” 

“She’s supposed to be.” 

“There’s no way this just slipped past.” Steve got up. Bucky grabbed his arm. “Hey, wait, what are you planning?” 

“We need to find out what she knows. Think about it, we get back from a mission, with this information, and suddenly she’s kicked out with no place to stay? She’s cracked into a SHIELD file, she knows how to lockpick… Don’t tell me it’s not suspicious.” 

Steve was right. The odds of it being a coincidence were low. “You really think she’s a part of this?”

Steve’s worried eyes locked with Bucky’s unsure ones. “I don’t know, Buck, but I don’t want to chance it.” 

In their line of work, chance meant the possibility of things going very, very badly. “Fine,” Bucky relented. “I’ll grab her phone, we’ll see if Stark can get anything out of it. FRIDAY, tell him to meet me in his lab. And that it’s important.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Steve stopped for two sharp knocks on her door before cracking it open. “Y/n?” 

There was an incoherent mumble that shifted Steve’s focus to the floor as he flipped on the lights. 

* * *

There was a heavy sound against the door. Your father must’ve slammed it shut on his way out. Or in. You curled into your blankets, determined to go back to sleep as you mentally complained about the noise. 

“Y/n?” 

Was someone calling for you? “In a minute,” you tried to say. The lights flipped on and you made a sound of protest, moving to shield your eyes. 

“Wake up.”

You squinted at the speaker as your eyes adjusted. “Steve?” It took a moment for your memory to come back to you. You were in the tower, in Steve and James’ spare room. “Whassup?” 

“Your dad kicked you out because he had friends staying over, right?” asked Steve, crossing the room with easy strides. James followed behind him, eyes searching the room.

“Yeah, they were havin’ some sorta meeting, I guess,” you rasped, words slurring together as you tried to wake up. James had taken your phone from it’s charger. “Wha’s wrong?”

“Just borrowing, Doll,” said James before exiting. You sat up straight, or as straight as you could considering your state of exhaustion.

“Do you know what that meeting was about?” Steve continued, putting a hand on your arm to stop you from following. 

You flinched back as he pressed on the bruise your father had left you with before work. You shook your head as an answer. 

“Do you remember any part of what they said?” 

Your mind was reeling from the bombardal of questions. In your exhausted state, it took you a moment to process. “Uhhh, no? A security breach somewhere? I think they were talking about when I came in. What’s going on? Why’d James take my phone?” You rubbed some of the sleep from your eyes as you began to get your bearings.

“Has your father been acting out of the ordinary recently? Spending more time out than usual?” 

“I don’t know,” you told him, fear rising in your chest. “I was just glad to be left alone. Steve, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just needed to know. Why are you asleep by the window?” 

You drew the blanket closer around you. His answer was too short. “The view. Why’d you need to know?” 

“You should go to bed.” He got up and offered you a hand. 

You let out a small whimper of frustration and backed away from him. “No,  _ why’d you need to know _ ? Why now? What happened?” 

His hand dropped. “I found out some information and I needed to see if it matched up.” 

“In the middle of the night?” 

He sighed. He was giving in. “Have you ever heard of something called the Thirteenth Alliance?” 

It took you a moment to process. “Sounds familiar. It’s a police union, right?” 

“Not exactly…” he said slowly. “Is that all you know about it? Do you know any members?” 

Again with the questions… You stood up, not comfortable with being looked down on. “Maybe my father. The sheriff and Mr. Thompson talked him into it.” A calculating spark entered his eyes. “Could you please tell me what’s going on?” You tried to keep the begging out of your voice as much as possible, but you were certain some had slipped through.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Who’s Mr. Thompson?” 

A pang entered your chest.  _ He’s just like the lieutenant. All questions and no answers. _ A sudden wave of panic washed over you. What have you gotten yourself into? No. No, you couldn’t think like that. Steve was safe. Right? "A guy that came over once… Flash's dad.” You swallowed down the sick feeling you got by saying his name. “Where’s James?” _ He has my phone. _

“Why?” 

“‘cause I want to know.” You could barely keep your voice from shaking. 

“In the lab with Tony.” 

They were going to look into your phone. They didn’t trust you. All because of your father.  _ He just ruins everything, doesn’t he? _

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Steve as you left. 

“To unlock my phone, if they haven’t gotten it yet, and see if they found anything.” 

“Would you expect them to find anything?” 

“No, but I didn’t expect whatever this is either,” you snapped, eyes burning from either exhaustion or the pain of speaking. “I might as well go help them.”  _ And maybe get answers while I’m at it. _

Steve didn’t follow you. You slipped on your shoes on your way out and FRIDAY had the floor selected before the elevator doors even began to close. 

Mr. Stark and James had caught sight of you through the glass of the lab before you entered. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi,” said Mr. Stark. His eyes locked onto your neck. Well, the cat's out of  _ that  _ bag.

You nodded towards your phone.“Is it unlocked?” You wrapped your arms around your body to guard yourself from the chill of the lab, though you weren’t sure that was why you were shaking. 

“Yep. Quite the password.” 

Your name and library card number. It was nothing difficult, just long. “Thanks. Find anything interesting?” 

He held up a clear container. “This was in the back of your phone, under the cover.” 

You walked forward. “What is it, a tracker?” 

“Nope. By your mic, which is disabled, by the way.” 

A wire-tap. “And by disabled you mean…” 

“Disconnected. It’s fixable, but you won’t be using it any time soon.” 

You frowned. You were supposed to talk with Peter soon. You pushed a hand through your hair. “Anything else?” 

“Not yet. It’s a waiting game right now. I’m gonna guess Cap didn’t find you guilty since you’re down here.” 

You ambled closer to them. “I guess. What time is it?” 

“A little past four. Almost four thirty,” said Mr. Stark. There was a small beep and he glanced over at a computer. “That’s… weird.” 

“What?”

“It’s not familiar with the program type,” said Mr. Stark, tapping at the keyboard. “The program isn’t active right now either.” 

You made your way to stand behind the computer. In an act of faith, he moved over so you could see. “That’s mine,” you informed him. “The only thing it’s capable of is shutting my phone down. There’s a control chip, it’s in my bag upstairs. Or it should be, at least.” You didn’t remember ever taking it out. You had put it back in the last time you used it, right?

“You wrote this?” 

You nodded, eyes roaming over the list of commands. You had never gone back to edit it, considering it worked and you had better things to do. “Like four years ago.” Had that much time really passed? “It’s sloppy but functional.” 

“And that’s all you needed it to be,” said Mr. Stark. “Functional.”

You took a step back from the computer. “Yeah. I could show you how it works later.” 

“Sure, kid.” 

You took a seat beside James and rested your head on the worksurface in front of you. Like the rest of the room, the metal was cold against your face. It helped with the headache you’d gotten from the abrupt wake-up. 

“You don’t have to wait down here,” said James. He rested his hand against your back, causing your body to tense. He didn’t move, though. “You can go back to bed, we’ll deal with this.” 

You shook your head. “If I was being spied on, I’d like to know the extent of it.” That and the fact that Steve was acting… the way he was and you didn’t want to face him yet. 

“I said earlier, Ace, it’s a waiting game. Could be hours before something shows up.” 

“I’m patient.” 

You thought the matter ended with that. Apparently not. 

“Remember what I said about this being on the top ten worst places to sleep?” 

A small smile made its way onto your face and you propped your head up on your hand. “Top five if you’re holding something electric.”

“So you do.” 

“I’m not planning to fall asleep here,” you said. You didn’t elaborate. You were losing your voice faster than you thought you would.

“Come on, Doll. I was about to go back up anyways. Stark will tell us what he finds,” tried James. You tried to keep the frown off your face. “I doubt he’s staying here for long either.” 

“He’s right, I’m not. FRIDAY will let me know what’s up when this is complete. Which means you can choose to leave or be kicked out.” 

You bit your lip. You had no choice in the matter. The odds they’d actually tell you anything were nonexistent. You’d be in the dark no matter what. “Fine.” You tried to keep what little composure you had left when you exited. 

James followed you out. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.”  _ Everything. What the hell type of a question is that in a time like this? _

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, pressing the elevator button. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine.” 

“Easy for you to say, it’s not  _ your  _ life that’s spiralling out of control,” you retorted. 

He couldn’t find a response for that. 

When the elevator doors opened, he was the first to step out. He took notice when you didn’t move. “Y/n?” 

You forced yourself to walk towards their apartment.  _ Steve is safe. He’s totally safe. And so is James _ . James held the door open as you reentered. 

Steve was sitting in the living room with a tablet. “Welcome back. What’s up?” 

“Stark found a wire-tap. He said it’d take a while to find anything else,” Bucky explained.

“Did we miss anything?” you tried.

Steve looked at you long and hard. “No.” 

“Dammit, Steve, what more do you want me to answer before you tell me something?” you shouted, finally reaching your limit. Or you tried to shout, it wasn’t very effective. “I get it, this is probably way above me but I deserve to know! There’s no way you just sat here doing nothing.” 

“You’re right, this is way above you, which is exactly why I want you to stay out of it,” he answered, matching your attempted volume level. “What I do is none of your business.” 

You inhaled sharply. The words hit you like a slap across the face.

_ “Hey, dad, why are you so busy nowadays?”  _

_ “I just am.” _

_ “But what are you doing?” _ __  
  


_ “What I do is none of your business.”  _

_ “Sorry… I was just thinking we could watch a movie this weekend.”  _

_ “No. I’ve got work.”  _

“Y/n? Hey, talk to me.” James’ touch snapped you out of your flashback.

You pulled yourself away. You could hear your breathing. It was loud and erratic, just like your thoughts. “I need to go.” 

“No way,” said Steve firmly. “Where would you even go?” 

_ A hot breath in your face. The smell of alcohol. “Where do you think you’d go, huh? No one would believe you. No one would let you in from the streets.” _

“Stop! Just stop- stop talking! Just stop.” You stumbled a few steps back.

The shaking brought you to your knees as it all became too much. You covered your ears, tugging at your hair. There was some conversation around you that you couldn’t process. There was just so much going on. Too much. You were currently homeless, your dad was a part of something that probably  _ wasn’t  _ a police union (but definitely not good), Steve was acting just like your father, who you thought you might finally be done with, and you had no idea what was going on, and your head was pounding, your heart was pounding. Steve was saying something. What did he want? Why were you shaking so much? Why is everything so wrong? What’d you do to deserve this? 

James was in front of you. “Y/n? Can you sit up, please?” His voice was gentle. It reached you as though you were hearing it while underwater. 

You shook your head and pressed your hands tighter against your ears. You didn’t want to hear anything. Your eyes were shut tight, trying to shut everything out.

“Okay. That’s okay. You’ve gotta let go of your hair though. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep pulling at it like that.” His hands coved yours. If you could pull yourself any tighter, you would’ve. “I know it probably feels like that’s the only thing keeping you sane, but I can’t watch you hurt yourself. Please. I’m here for you. I want to help you through this, but you need to let go. You can hold onto my hands instead, alright? Come on.” 

His hands carefully pressed at yours, continuing to encourage you, and you released them slowly. You squeezed James’ hands, which were now holding yours. He was in front of you. He was real, and he wasn’t your dad, and he wasn’t Steve. He was James. Jamie. Jamie who asked you to text him that you were safe, and teased you about Peter, and drank coffee with you, and answered your call in the middle of the night after a mission, when he was probably exhausted. James who you could trust- who you did trust. 

“Good job, Doll. Thank you.” 

You nodded. 

“I’m going to hug you, is that okay?” 

A hug? Is a hug okay? Is a hug from James okay? He hadn’t moved yet. He was waiting. He was letting you hold onto him. He wanted your answer. You nodded. 

He slowly pulled you against him so your head was against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat. “Alright. It’s okay. It’s a lot, I know. It’s scary, but you’re going to be okay... You’re safe here.” 

You shook your head. 

“No? You don’t think it’s safe here?”

You nodded. 

“Can you explain for me?” 

You shrugged. It took you a while to catch your breath enough to say something. James helped, encouraging you to match his breathing. “He sounds like the lieutenant.” 

James brushed some hair from your face. “Stevie?” You nodded. “You think Steve sounds like- Oh. Oh, no.  _ No _ , Doll. Steve would never hurt you like that.” 

Of course he’d defend Steve. What were you thinking, saying that? You began to pull away, but James tightened his arms. You tensed. “Just hear me out for a minute. We want you safe. I know he might seem demanding, but we don’t want you hurt. The less you know, the less danger you’re in.” 

“I  _ need  _ to know.” 

“Okay.” Did he just… agree? “What is it you think you should know?” 

“The Thirteenth Alliance isn’t a police union, it is?” 

“It’s not.” So he was actually going to give you answers. Maybe. Steve had started the same way. 

“What- What is it?” 

“A crime syndicate that caught the eye of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Oh.” So your father was a criminal now. And a police officer. What a contradiction. You relaxed into his hold a little and he loosened it slightly. “Do you think the guys in my apartment were a part of it?”

His chin rested on your head. “It’s certainly a possibility.” 

It’d explain the gun your father put away. Maybe Steve had a point earlier - you should’ve left without going back. “What’s gonna happen?” 

“Well…” James began to comb his fingers through your messy hair, relaxing you more than you knew was possible. “They’re probably going to be taken into custody and questioned. And you’re staying here until we can figure something out to make sure you’re safe. That’s what’s most important to us.” 

“Oh.” Your safety was important to them. “Okay.” You tried to think of something else, but your mind was too tired. That was the main part of it. Your curiosity was satiated. “You’re warm,” you noted. That was the only thing occupying your mind at the moment. 

A short huff of laughter escaped him. “Am I? You cozy?” 

You nodded in response, letting out a sleepy hum. You pressed your ear against his chest, listening closer to his steady heartbeat. 

“Are you gonna fall asleep on me?” You could hear the smile in his voice. 

“Mmn, sorry.” You didn’t really want to get up, though. And his hand was still carding through your hair.

“Sh… It’s alright. You can sleep if you want. I promise I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.” The last part had been spoken so softly, you weren't entirely sure you'd actually heard it. 

You’d been tired since you woke up. Now, warm and safe, with your questions answered, the pull of sleep was just too strong to fight any longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *in a mocking way* Oh no, not me throwing shade at the U.S. police system… AKA what I’ve been doing for like 15% fic… What type of a person would I be if I did that? *in my normal voice* I am absolutely throwing shade. Officers should not by any means be allowed to walk free because of their careers. So if you've been detecting a bit of shade? It's not you dreaming. It's real and, on some level, a conscious decision.


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: This is the second chapter. This is what you wanted for Tony that I didn’t really give him. This is the Inner Dialogue of Steve Rogers and his total Fck Up.   
> Mostly Steve POV, sort of morphs into Bucky's later... I tried. XD

“What I do is none of your business.” Steve watched y/n stumble a couple steps back. 

Bucky moved to stop her from falling. “Y/n? Hey, talk to me.” 

She yanked her arm away from him and Steve took a worried step closer. “I need to go.” 

“No way,” said Steve. With a potential target on her back, and currently no home to return to, there was no place safer than the tower. What did she think she was doing? Hadn’t she just gotten kicked out? “Where would you even go?” 

“Stop! Just stop- stop talking! Just stop,” she shouted. Steve’s eyes widened in shock as she crumpled to the ground.

“Y/n?” He moved closer to her.

Bucky stepped in front of him. “Steve, no.” 

“What? She just-” Steve fought to step around him.

“She’s having a panic attack and from the looks of it, it was something you said that triggered it,” explained Bucky, eyes focused on y/n. “It might be better if you go, just for a little bit.” 

Steve looked between Bucky and y/n, who was on the ground, curled tightly. He closed his eyes for a second before leaving her to Bucky’s care. 

No matter what he tried to do, it seemed like he always messed up with y/n. He never wanted to hurt her, but it ended up that way anyways. That first time, when he had disregarded what she had shared, he simply hadn’t wanted her in trouble. Steve didn’t want to encourage negative behavior and had been completely inconsiderate. Then, when she said she’d actually die for her mother’s things… The look on her face when he had grabbed that box… To see her look at him with such terror crushed him. 

And now this. He wasn’t even sure what he’d done. Steve sat on his bed with his head in his hands. Just hours ago, Bucky had been in the same position, talking about how he had hurt her, how mad he was at himself, how y/n had forgiven him far too easily. Steve contemplated how he had treated her. When he was asking her questions, he’d seen that flicker of panic before she asked for Bucky. She left because she felt safer with him.

When she snapped at him for hiding information… She was right, she had every right to know. Steve hadn’t thought she was ready to hear it - that her father and three others would be arrested on the same night she’d been kicked out, that her apartment was now under investigation, that she had a target on her back, any of it. What teenager would ever expect any of those to happen, let alone all three at the same time? 

After twenty minutes of relative silence, Steve opened his door. He padded down to the living room, where he found Bucky and Y/n on the floor. Steve raised his eyebrows in a silent question. 

“She just fell asleep,” Bucky whispered, flesh hand covering the ear that wasn’t against his chest. 

Steve nodded. “Is she alright?” 

Bucky pursed his lips. “She’s stressed. And scared. And tired, obviously.” He glanced down at her. “It’s a lot for one person to handle.” 

“I know. That’s why I didn’t want to tell her. I called Natasha to give her the tip off, her father and three others are being taken into custody.” 

“She didn’t seem very surprised when I mentioned it.” 

“When you- You told her?” he demanded. 

“Sh!” Bucky warned as y/n stirred just the slightest bit. “Yes, I told her. She was going to freak out over it, I had to give her something. Trust works both ways. It’s no different than it is between you and me.” 

Maybe that’s where Steve was going wrong. Steve had constantly paid attention to Bucky when he first got back. He had treated Bucky like his friend and then, when it was established, his boyfriend. He had treated y/n… He wasn’t really sure what category he put her into. “How much does she know?” 

“She actually didn’t want to know much,” said Bucky. “She asked about what the Thirteenth Alliance was and if I thought the guys in her apartment were a part of it. Then she asked what’s gonna happen next.” 

They were logical questions. “I probably shouldn’t have interrogated her the way I did.” 

“Yeah.” Bucky sighed. “I’m saying this because we don’t keep secrets, Steve, okay?” 

Steve tried to prepare himself to be hurt. That’s the only thing that could come after a statement like that. “Okay.” 

“She said you reminded her of her father.” 

Steve could never have prepared himself for that. It felt like a hit to the gut, and he guessed it could show because Bucky followed up with “I know. I told her we wouldn’t hurt her and that it was dangerous. She didn’t want to listen at first, that was when I let her ask questions. She was going off of nothing, Steve,” he tried to explain. “She was literally thrown into this mess overnight.” 

Steve didn’t miss Bucky’s protective gaze towards y/n. He understood the sentiment; she didn’t deserve any of what had happened. 

“We should get her back to bed,” Steve said after a minute. “It’s been a long day.” 

Bucky shifted to pick her up. “It’s only what? Four, five in the morning?” 

Steve groaned. “Don’t remind me.” 

Bucky set y/n down on the bed and Steve grabbed the blankets from where she’d discarded them earlier. 

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

“She said she liked the view from the window,” Steve mentioned as he tucked her in. 

Bucky nodded watching as y/n curled up under the blanket before leaving. 

Steve shut the door and turned to Bucky. “What are we doing?” he wondered. 

“What do you mean?” 

“This whole situation… Y/n is literally staying in our guest room right now. What are we doing?” 

Bucky could feel his heart sink a little. “Don’t tell me you regret letting her in, Steve. She just got kicked out.”

“I don’t,” assured Steve. “I just… Is this a one night thing? A one week thing? I don’t  _ want  _ to kick her out but…” 

Bucky rested his forehead against Steve’s. “But what, Stevie? C’mon, tell me what's going on in that big head of yours.”

“I’m not sure this is the best place for her,” said Steve. “Especially if I remind her of her father, that won’t help her at all. I’m not suggesting we make her leave, but she has her own room downstairs.” 

“You’re scared of hurting her if she’s too close.” 

“Haven’t I already? Haven’t we both?” 

Bucky’s gut clenched at the reminder. “Maybe, but avoiding her isn’t the solution Steve. She’s gonna need all the support she can get right now.” 

“Support, not… I  _ remind her of her father _ , Bucky,” reiterated Steve. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Bucky sighed. “I can’t speak on her behalf, but the best thing we can do is be here if she needs us.” 

The explanation didn’t help Steve feel any less guilty. “Maybe.” 

Bucky gave Steve a soft kiss in consolation. “Come on. Let’s go deal with the rest of the fall out.”

He was right. There was a lot of work to do. From the looks of it, this was just the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh we love ourselves some good angst... It’s always Steve. Well, not _always_ Steve, but I feel like Steve just isn’t the person who’s ever been Broken, and so he’s having a hard time relating to someone who is (at the moment). And Bucky is there to help. So soft. 
> 
> Also, the answer(s) to last Wednesday's challenge: The object that made an appearance was the seashell necklace from Chapter 36! :)


	45. Chapter 45

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you enjoy a small breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so… for these two chapters, I removed the second enter I usually put in because I realised AO3 has spaces between paragraphs (and also that I forgot to do that for my docs so it looked weird without the gap between paragraphs but I fixed it now). I personally think it looks better, but like… It's a pretty big difference I'm not sure how I didn't notice this before. Let me know what you think, if it's too crowded or just right.

You blinked your eyes open the next morning. Light was shining into your room, forcing your eyes to adjust. You sat up and rubbed your eyes. Had you left the blinds open? Removing your hands from your face, you realized you weren’t in your room. It took barely a second to remember where you were and why. 

You flopped back onto the bed - when did you even get there? - and stared up at the ceiling. Your cheeks reddened as you realized that James must’ve carried you in after last night. Somehow yesterday’s nightmare had actually happened. And so had what came after. What happened now? Was there a plan? Should you be doing anything? How long would you be allowed to stay? You wanted answers, but answers required getting up and you really didn’t want to do that. 

Be that as it may, you couldn’t lie in bed forever. Unlike your room downstairs, this one didn’t have a bathroom, which meant you actually had to leave. Upon opening your door, the smell of food wafted in. Someone else was awake. You ignored the grumble of your stomach as you made your way to the end of the hall to use the bathroom and clean up a little. Slightly more awake than you were moments before, you chose to make your presence known.

In the kitchen, Steve and James were cooking. Steve was cooking, at least. James was dancing to some quiet jazz with a piece of toast in his hand. You would’ve taken a picture if you had your phone.

James caught sight of you first, and you watched as his gleeful expression fell into shock for a split second. “Good morning, Doll,” he greeted. “We weren’t expecting you up for a while.” 

“What time is it?” you asked, voice just a bit scratchy. You made your way to the table to take a seat and observe them. 

“About nine thirty,” answered Steve softly. You tried to do the math, but you didn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep. “Do you want something to eat?” 

Food. Food would definitely help right now. Food always helps. You nodded. “Please.” 

James grabbed some more toast to stick in the toaster. “What do you want? We’ve got toast, jam, Nutella, cream cheese, eggs, cereal…” 

“We have coffee, too,” offered Steve. He stepped away from the stove to take an ice pack from the freezer and slide it over the tabletop. “That’ll help with the bruises.”

Coffee. Just imagining its warmth woke you up a bit. Or maybe having an icepack on your neck was what woke you up. Regardless, a good coffee was always a nice way to start the morning. “Coffee, thanks. Cereal is fine.” 

James pulled two boxes from the cabinet above the fridge. “Cinnamon Crunch or Cheerios?”

Your mind drifted to whether or not they’d ever tried Cap’n Crunch as you made your choice. A few moments later you sat with your bowl, contemplating what to start off with. After swallowing the mouthful you had, you asked “Any updates?”

“Why don’t we get through breakfast first?” proposed James. He was taking his time with a sandwich. “Natasha is coming by later, we’ll talk about it then.”

Well then. Steve and James. And Mr. Stark. And Natasha. You stirred at your cereal. “Does the whole team know?” 

“Pretty much,” said Steve, taking a seat across from you. He placed a coffee cup in front of you.

“Thanks.” You were in a tower with Earth’s mightiest heroes, one of which had taken time to train you in self defense, and then you didn’t even use it when the opportunity arose - at least not in the way she had intended. And now she knew.  _ Pathetic. _ “Did Mr. Stark find anything?” 

“We don’t bring business to the table, Doll.” 

You ducked your head. “Sorry.” 

“You didn’t know. It makes it easier to enjoy the meal.” James took a seat at the table with his sandwiches. “How was your day with the ladies? You said it was a spa day, right?” 

You nodded. Crazy to think that happened only yesterday. “It was nice. I, um, met Maria Hill.” 

“Did you? How’d that go?” asked James. He took a bite out of his sandwich as he waited. 

“Not bad… Got to know some interesting stories. No details, of course, just… I dunno, they sounded too badass to be real.” That put an incredulous smile on your face. “I mean, really, taking out twelve guys with nothing but a knife and three shots? That’s not possible.” 

They both gave considerate nods. 

Your smile fell a little. “That’s not possible, right?” 

“No business at the table,” said James. Then he winked. 

No way, they’d totally done it before... “Well, if that’s the house rules… Anyways, we had plenty of time to exchange stories yesterday. It was fun.” 

James was smirking in a way that told you nothing good could come of it. “Ah, did you girls talk about any  _ boys _ by chance?” 

“Considering you’re not a girl, I think I already overshared this weekend’s events,” you said, easily avoiding the topic. Boys had in fact come up, and the ladies were almost as relentless as James. “Anything interesting happen on your end? Any good coffee from… Where was it?” 

James was not impressed. “You’re going to have to try harder than that. And  _ no business at the table _ . That’s gotta be the third time I’ve told you now.” 

“Whoops?” you replied apologetically. “What, do you guys just eat in silence?” 

“No,” said James patiently. “We talk about plenty, like our workouts, things in the news, old memories, what we want to watch when we’re settling in for the night. We like to be entirely off the clock while we can. We’ve got lives to live.” 

“Ah.”  _ Well, that leaves me absolutely clueless on what to talk about considering I barely work out, hardly pay attention to the news nowadays, and they probably don’t want my movie recommendations. _

“What about you?” asked James after some silence. 

You pushed around some more of your cereal. “What, uh, what about me?” 

“What do you normally talk about?” 

You grip on the spoon tightened slightly.  _ Keep it light. Keep it simple. No need to bring the mood down. _ “School, sometimes. Plans for the week, mostly.”  _ We usually didn’t talk. _ ”There were a lot of times when I ate by myself, and you can’t really have a conversation without another person. Speaking of which, today is Sunday, right? Aren’t Sundays team breakfast days?” 

“We thought you’d want to choose whether to go down there or not,” said Steve. 

He’d been fairly quiet the entire morning, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. “Well, my room is down there,” you mumbled. “So…” 

“If that’s where you want to stay, we won’t stop you.” Steve wasn’t looking at you and suddenly realized he must’ve been mad at you. He  _ wanted  _ you to go. Must’ve been because of your behavior last time you’d seen him.

You took a few more bites of cereal as you thought about what to say. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last night. That was out of line. And for the… the way I fell apart.” 

Both of their heads darted up. “Okay, first off, where’d that come from?” asked James. 

You shrugged, quickly finishing your cereal. “It just came to mind.” 

“Is that so?” He pursed his lips for a second. “There’s no reason to apologize for having a panic attack. They’re not exactly the easiest to control, I know from experience.” 

Well then… “I still shouldn't have yelled.” 

“We were all a little loud. That happens here. And you were trying to get me to stop… I’m sorry for whatever I said or did that triggered it,” apologized Steve. “I would never hurt you the way your father did, not intentionally.” 

James had told him, then. “I know that. The  _ stupid _ part is that I  _ know _ that,” you said. “And I know that I’m safe here. Logically.”

“Panic attacks are far from logical. Would you mind telling me what I did so I don’t do it again?” 

“You didn’t do anything.” 

“I reminded you of him.”

You rose from your seat, taking your bowl and their empty plates as you spoke. “I was stressed, Steve, and I was tired. It was way too early in the morning, Lieutenant Hardass kicked me out, my phone was taken for a reason I didn’t yet know, and then I discovered that I was being spied on by what I thought was a police union but is actually a terrorist organization. And I  _ still  _ have no clue what the fuck I’m doing. So yes, after a barrage of questions and a ton of confusion, I panicked.” You began with the dishes. 

“You can leave those,” said James. “I’ll do them later.” 

“Force of habit. I hate messy kitchens.” 

“Noted.” 

“As I was saying. Not your fault. It was a long night. No grudges.” 

“Good to know,” said Steve after a slight hesitation. 

You nodded and rocked back on your heels. The dishes were done and you had nothing to do. Natasha would be coming around later… Up here? Or to the tower in general? She’d find you if she needed you, right? “I’m gonna move my stuff downstairs.”

“Oh. Okay,” said James. “You’re leaving quickly. I thought you wanted to talk.” 

“What I want is to keep myself busy,” you said. And you had something you needed to deal with before it blew up in your face. 

“Keeping yourself busy… Because you don’t want to talk or because you want something to do?” asked Steve slowly, following you to the room. 

You were quick to tidy up the bed and pick up your meager belongings. Steve waited for an answer beside the doorway. You shouldered your bag before answering his question. “To pretend to have a semblance of control right now,” you told him. 

“Are you planning to come back up here?” he wondered as he followed you down the hall. 

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. “It’s not like you’re  _ not  _ going to see me soon, it’s only one floor down.” 

He opened and closed his mouth before looking away. “Right.” 

You cleared your throat painfully. “Well then, you know where to find me if Natasha comes knocking. See you guys later.” 

They made their agreements as you left. You had an engineer to chat with. 


	46. Chapter 46

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you open your engineering sketchbooks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: This is the second chapter. (SO sorry it's late, I ended up doing some research for the end AN!!!)  
> Y/f/c = Your favorite color … I’m sorry we have 4 chapters for the exact same “day.”

“Hey, FRIDAY, who’s all in the kitchen?” you asked in the elevator. 

“About half of the team, Miss.” 

“Okay, well, I’m not dealing with that right now. Could you take me down to the lab? No stops on the way.” 

“I can take you down to the level, but you’re not allowed to access the labs without supervision.” 

That actually worked in your favor. “I can wait outside for Mr. Stark.” The elevator began its descent. “How long do you think it’ll take him to be done with breakfast?” 

“About twenty more minutes. Would you like me to send him down now?” 

“No,” you replied, stepping into the hall. “Let him eat. I can wait.” 

Truth be told, you didn’t know what you’d say to him. Not entirely at least. You knew it needed to be said, though, so here you were, lockbox and all. You never thought you’d choose to share the information in those notebooks. It wasn’t like they were actually your designs though. Well, some of them were, but most were based on pictures. You covered up the bruising on your neck during the wait, using the small mirrors on your makeup pallets to help you.

It took Mr. Stark nearly an hour to come down to the lab. “FRIDAY mentioned you were down here,” he said as he made his way down the hall.

“Yeah, I’ve just been hanging out. I wasn’t really… eager to discuss with the team.” 

He nodded and opened the door to the lab. “Well, I have a program working on removing the malware on your phone, so if that’s what you wanted…” He made a  _ there you have it _ gesture with his hand. You followed him into the lab.

You took a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you about something, actually. Before it… goes sideways, I guess.” 

“Oh? And what would that be, exactly?” 

You set your mom’s lockbox on a table and Mr. Stark took a wary step back. “It’s just a lockbox.” You pulled off your mom’s military tag and held it against the camera you’d added. “Y/l/n, Y/n,” you stated as clearly as possible. Hopefully it’d work, it’d been almost a year since you last opened it.

“Why do you have a military tag?” he asked as three short high pitched beeps sounded. 

You flipped the box open. “It was my mom’s.” You pulled out two of the four notebooks, all the exact same color as the one you had now, and slid them over to Mr. Stark. He picked one up to flip through, eyes narrowed suspiciously. The two others were far more detailed, intricate, and dangerous. 

You inspected the cover of the one in your hand, looking for whether the circle in the corner had a dot in the center or not. It didn’t, and that made it your first notebook that locked. “Toronto, Rome, Acadia, Paris. Confirm: Y/l/n.” The magnets released. You added it to the pile. “Spinach, chamomile, rose, apple, mint. Confirm: Y/l/n.” The other notebook joined. 

“What’s different about those two?” questioned Mr. Stark. 

“They lock and have different passcodes.” You pulled your current one from your bag and used it to demonstrate. The pages didn’t budge. “Magnetic, voice activated. Cram, yield, class, late, event. Confirm: Y/l/n.” The notebook opened easily and you dropped it onto the table. 

He flipped open the first notebook you unlocked to a random page. “This is a design for an iron suit.” 

You nodded. 

“Why?” 

This was the hard part to explain. You began to fidget as you tried to find the words. “It just… was impressive. And I- I wanted something I could use to defend myself. Something I could use to leave. Which probably sounds so pathetic, but I was obsessed with it. I just-  _ God, why is this so hard to say? _ ” You huffed a breath of frustration. “When you first built a suit, it was to save yourself.” 

He looked up grimly. “And you wanted to do the same. Save yourself.” 

You nodded, desperate to get him to understand. “I know those are detailed but I swear I’d never let them get in the wrong hands. I’ve barely let anyone hold one.  _ Especially  _ not my father.” 

“The lieutenant.” 

You looked up, eyes wide. “What?” 

“You called him that once. You were rambling, back when you hacked that SHIELD file. I put it together. You only have a few lieutenants in your inner circle, but the only one who would take away your phone would probably be your father so… I took a guess.” 

“Oh.” Neither of you moved, simply staring at each other. He wasn’t judging, just waiting expectantly. “Well, yeah. That’s the one. Got arrested.”

Mr. Stark nodded. “These are impressive,” he said, moving on. “Mostly wrong, but not bad. They definitely have the potential to be dangerous.” He turned through the pages of a different notebook and stopped at one. “The cupholder on your bike?” 

You looked over the page and nodded. Which reminded you, your bike was still by the door. You’d have to ask if you could bring that up to the lab again. 

He pointed to the date at the top. “Last year. Did you date all of them?” 

Once again, you nodded silently. 

“It’s a good practice. What the farthest date back, do you think?” 

You thought back to the first time you’d really started sketching things out and locking them. “Four or five years ago, maybe.” 

“Hm. Is the code on your phone in here anywhere?” 

“Um, no, it’s in one of the older ones,” you said. “I think there are a few pages of me copying morse code before the actual coding part.”

He collected the notebooks into one stack. “What’s all that?” he questioned with a nod to the things remaining in your lockbox. Perfume, more jewelry, a photobook, and the original key to your lockbox, along with an old car key.

“My mom’s things, mostly. I think my social security card and birth certificate are in there too, but mostly it’s just her old stuff. Jamie and Steve were so mad when I told them I went back for this.” 

Mr. Stark’s face twisted in confusion. “Went back?” 

_ He didn’t know. Great job, y/n, just rat yourself out like that. _ “Did you know how I got to the tower last night?”

“Barnes said they had gotten a tip off. I don’t really believe that. I didn’t believe it when he said it either.” 

_ Wow, really giving away all your secrets all by yourself y/n. _ “I got kicked out; my father was renting my room out. So I broke into my own apartment, grabbed my stuff and left. I don’t know what the tip off was from, but I didn’t find out my father was a criminal until after.” 

“Which is why you’re showing me these.” He picked up the stack of notebooks. “Laying everything in the open so it won’t come up later.” 

You nodded. “Whatever he was doing, I wasn’t a part of it.” 

“I trust you.” He set the notebooks back in the lockbox. “You’ve gone this long without selling to the black market. I’d like to ask though, since you’re going to be around for a while, would you want to help me make some of these ideas real?” 

Your eyebrows shot up. “You... want to use my ideas?” 

“I just said that, didn’t I? Can’t just let them go to waste.”

This was the farthest thing from what you’d expected. Maybe shouting or the demand to burn them all and you having to beg to keep them. But he actually wanted to use them. “That’d be cool.” 

“Great. And when Peter comes back-” 

_ Peter. _ “He can’t know about this. Any of it.” 

Mr. Stark crosses his arms. “He’ll realize that you’re living in the tower within two days of returning, Ace. There’s no way to hide it from him.” 

“I know that, but  _ this- _ ” You put your hand over the notebooks. “- this is different. He doesn’t need to know I got kicked out. Or about these.”  _ He doesn’t need to know how weak I am. _

“Because you like him.” You didn’t dignify him with a response. Of course he would know about that; he’s married to Pepper and lives in the same building as James. “You don’t want him to see you differently. I won’t tell him, but you can’t hide from him forever, kid.” 

“I can try to,” you said. “I’ll be back down for my phone later, I’m gonna put my stuff in my room.” 

“About that,” said Mr. Stark. You turned back around slowly.  _ What if he kicks me out? _ “I was planning on just getting you a new phone. You could use an upgrade, anyways. And not to brag, but Stark Tech has better encryption. I’ll make sure to transfer everything important but I wanted to know what color you’d prefer.” 

So, you still had a room. That’s a relief. “Y/f/c is my favorite color but I usually put a case on my phone.” 

“Good to know. I’ll see you later, Ace.”

“See ya.” 

You made your way to your bedroom to await Natasha’s arrival. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, the passcodes are all mnemonics… cities that spell TRAP, foods that spell SCRAM, some random words (sort of school related) that spell CYCLE…   
> Tony was more attentive than I may have said he was that first time… You guys talked me into it XD Thought I’d give it to you. He noticed her slip up. Slight confrontation. Slightly resolved angst. It’s good.  
> ALSO: If you celebrate the winter holidays, I hope you enjoy that!!!!! I don't have any winter holidays, and I don't feel personally inclined to share my religion here so I'm not going to, but like... I woke up this morning and it took me twenty minutes to realize it was christmas XD I didn't know it was Christmas eve until like 3 p.m that day... XD   
> Anyways, here's this for you all! I hope you're enjoying winter break, because I am, for the most part. I also wish you all a SAFE winter break!!! I know that there's a lot that happens during this time of the year, whether that's forced reunions or drinking or whatnot else, but 1) keep to COVID-19 regulations if that applies to your region and 2) reach out to a helpline if you need it. Here are a few... 
> 
> Trevor Hotline (LGBTQ+ Suicide hotline) 1-866-4-U-TREVOR (1-866-488-7386)  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline 1-800-799-SAFE (1-800-799-7233)  
> Youth Crisis Hotline 1-800-448-4663   
> Crisis Text Line: Text "HELLO" to 741741  
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: Call 1-800-273-8255 
> 
> My Tumblr is @realpunqueen if you ever want to message me. My secondary account for fandom stuff @belovable-nerd if you wanna check it out. Much love to all of you!!


	47. Chapter 47

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you look for something to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years!! ❤ A long-ish chapter here. About 14 pages. Lots of dialogue coming up, though. A few long paragraphs that I couldn't break down (sorry). I hope you enjoy!

“I can't just  _ skip school _ ,” you argued. 

It was Monday. Sunday had passed uneventfully after your teenage crisis. You’d gotten a new phone (which had the contact information of every Avenger you knew, plus your old contacts and minus your father), talked with Peter for a while, spent some time tinkering with your bike, and talked with Natasha. 

She took James and Steve’s side that you shouldn’t have handled the situation alone. She praised how you had noted the weapon and the fact that there was more danger than you could handle, but condemned how you hadn’t called for help when you should’ve. The spy had made it clear that knowing when to call for back-up in the field was one of the most important skills in her profession, and ultimately called what you had done reckless. Natasha had understood, though, that you didn’t think you’d get help. In terms of handling it alone, you had done the right thing; you had retrieved what you needed and got out without injuries. She had jokingly called it an accomplished first mission, but mentioned that you still needed a lot more training before you made it out into the field. (Training that was to be held at 4 p.m. six days a week until the end of summer.)

When it came down to new information, the only thing Natasha could give you was that your apartment was under investigation and the Sheriff had taken a leave of absence. She had plainly stated that you were in no danger so long as you stayed at the tower, which was what brought you to your dilemma now. 

“That class is a required credit if I want to graduate,” you insisted. 

Natasha wasn’t budging. “The answer is no, y/n.” 

“I’m going to get kicked out of school if I don’t go!” 

She pulled a piece of paper from inside her jacket and offered it to you. “I doubt they would.”

You took the sheet from her hand and unfolded it. It was an official document (or at least, official-looking document) declaring your new custody status as a ward of the court. The fact that you were now an orphan had barely crossed your mind until that moment, but there was more to deal with. You were in protective custody indefinitely. “You’re withdrawing me from the class.” 

“It’s the best way to keep you safe right now,” Natasha explained. 

“Why can’t I just… Finish the course online then?” you asked. Arguing with Natasha was obviously a futile endeavor. “You can’t seriously expect me to become a high school dropout.” 

“I’m not.” She looked like she was considering your proposition. “Stark got you a laptop yesterday, right?” 

“Yeah.” Not that you’d been expecting it, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Much like the spy in front of you. 

“I’ll make the request but whether or not the school accepts it is beyond me,” she informed you. 

You folded the paper and handed it over. “That’s all I’m asking.” 

“Don’t expect to go back to work any time soon either.” 

You grit your teeth. That would put a dent in your plans to get an apartment when you turned 18. “How long should I request off?” 

“It might be better to put in your two weeks.” 

You felt a chill go down your back. She was asking you to quit. How did none of this come up yesterday? She had said you were better off staying in the tower but to this extent? Really? “I can’t just quit.”

“If you don’t, your workplace might become a target. Are you willing to do that?” she levelled. You thought of Scott, Lauren, Xavier, and all the other waiters and chefs. “For your safety and theirs.”

You closed your eyes for a second, bracing yourself for what was to come. “Fine.”

You trudged back to your room, not sure what to do next.  _ I’m a ward of the court. This isn’t what I thought it’d be like. _ You looked around. You were homeless, jobless, and orphaned. Not totally homeless, thankfully; you were staying in Avengers Tower, but it wasn’t really home. It was very nice, though. 13 year-old you would never have believed it. You had a walk-in closet and a full luxury bathroom. You had clothes in your closet that cost more than $40. You had not one but  _ two _ Stark devices.  _ This would make for a great college essay. _ You laughed at the thought. There was something to do, finalize your college list. 

The first thing you did when your laptop was open was send out an email to Scott, explaining the situation as best as you could and formally resigning. You sat at the desk for a few hours after that, going through the schools you had selected. MIT, UIUC, UW-Madison, UC Berkeley, and NYU were all highly selective schools, but they were all on your list as some of the best engineering schools in the nation. You clicked through their websites for a few hours until you grew bored. You flipped the laptop shut and rubbed your eyes tiredly. 

Maybe you should take a nap. You hadn’t been able to sleep well the night before. You could only imagine what your stay would be like if it kept happening. You’d have to get used to the cold sooner or later, right? 

You tossed and turned for about a half hour before giving up. Napping wasn’t the greatest option, then. “FRIDAY, what type of activities are available around here?” 

“Well, you’ve already been to the viewing room and the library. Mr. Parker enjoys the obstacle course set up in the entertainment hall, if you’re looking for something new.” 

You slipped out of the bed and followed FRIDAY’s directions. You opened the door just wide enough to slip into the room and close it behind you. 

It was impressive. There was a climbing rope, a rock wall, monkey bars, balance beams, a trampoline, and even a zip line. You also caught sight of a giant plush bunny in a corner, but you weren’t going to waste time staring at it. You made your way up with some of the easier parts of the course: up a rope climbing net, across a balance beam, and over a wood bridge. About 15 feet from the ground was a set of monkey bars. Underneath it were foam cubes in case you fell. 

You looked at the bars before deciding to try something you had done as a child. It’d been the ‘cool’ thing to do, to sit on top of the monkey bars. The more daring kids had walked on them while the recess supervisors weren’t looking. You grabbed a hold of the first rung before kicking your feet up on the metal support beside you. You walked your feet up until you could hook a leg over and easily pulled the rest of your body up. You sat up with your legs dangling over the edge of the monkey bars. It was an interesting place to be. 

You stared down at the foam pit below you, your mind once again focusing on your current situation. There were people who’d probably give anything to be sitting where you were. It was a great place and looked like plenty of fun, but your mind was still focused on the fact that you’d lost all sense of stability within 48 hours. 

You looked down at the pit below you and impulsively pushed off the monkey bars. There was a moment where you felt your stomach drop and then you were sinking through the foam cubes. At least if you lost your balance in here, the cubes would catch your fall. Life wasn’t like that. You let yourself lie there for a while, not really thinking of anything in particular. 

You climbed out when Sam walked in. You’d never gotten around to telling him anything, but he was bound to know by now. Which could only mean one thing: confrontation.

“FRIDAY said you were in here.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You, uh, wanna have some lunch?” he suggested. 

“Are we really gonna do the whole awkward conversation with food to make it less cringy?” 

“Looks like you’ve foiled my plan,” he said with a smile. 

You shook your head. “Food only.”

“We should talk about it.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you bit out, trying to slip past him. “I have a sore throat if you couldn’t tell.” 

“Then just listen.” He slid to block the door. “I should’ve come to visit. After.” 

You didn’t need to ask what he was referring to. You’d expected something about your father, but this? Hell no. “I said  _ I don’t want to talk about it _ , Sam.” And that was before you knew he wanted to talk about your mom. 

“I heard you, but we need to talk about it. I need to say this.” 

“Then say it in front of a mirror because I don’t- I can’t do this, okay? I can’t,” you retaliated. Your voice took a pleading note as you continued on. “Losing her was hard. For everyone. And she was your best friend. I know you would’ve been there if you could’ve, but you couldn’t. So if that’s what you were going to say…” You trailed off. “I don’t need your apology. I know it wasn’t your fault, and even if it was, I forgave you a long time ago.”  _ Don’t go picking at a healed wound. _

Sam was silent for a long moment. “Got it. I made us milkshakes, if you want. With coffee. The same way I used to.” 

You waited a second for his words to process. “Maybe you should’ve led with that.”

He smiled. “Yeah, maybe I should’ve. Remember the first time I gave you one? I thought Andy would murder me on the spot when you mentioned coffee.” 

You followed Sam back to the kitchen, a small smile on your face at the memory of your mom’s expression. “I must've been what, five? Six? Now I drink coffee at least once a week. And I’ve advanced to being able to drink black coffee, but only when I’m really tired.” 

“That’s weak.” 

“Black coffee just doesn’t  _ taste _ good,” you whined. “No one who drinks straight black coffee actually likes it, they drink it because they’re dead inside, Sam.” [AN: No offense to all the black coffee drinkers out there <3 This is but a Character, my friends]

You walked into the kitchen to find Steve, James, and Clint already there. “Y’know, I think she might be onto something,” said James, gesturing towards you. “I drink black coffee. Meanwhile, Barton’s coffee is half milk and sugar.” 

“Clint doesn’t drink coffee,” said Sam as he poured out the blended drink. “Clint drinks frappuccinos like a middle schooler who finally got their parents’ permission to drink coffee.”

“Again with this?” asked Clint. “It has coffee.”

Sam held up two glasses of the milkshake he’d made. “This has coffee. This is what the frappuccino wishes it was,” he said while handing yours over. 

You took a sip from the y/f/c straw. “This is what I wish a frappuccino was.”

“You should get something to eat,” said Steve. “What’d you have for breakfast, anyway?” 

“Bold of you to assume this isn’t my breakfast.” They all sent disapproving looks your way. “I’m  _ kidding _ . It’s not. I had an apple earlier.” 

“Are you serious?” questioned James. “An apple?”

“I was in a rush,” you defended.

“For what?” asked Clint. 

You sipped at your milkshake before speaking, allowing the cool drink to provide your throat some relief. “Well, I was planning to go to school today until Natasha informed me that I’ve suddenly become Repunzel.” You slid into the chair beside James, moodily sucking at your milkshake.

“That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? Your hair only goes halfway down your back,” said Clint. 

“Haha,” you responded dryly. “You’re so funny.” 

“Hey, lighten up,” said James quietly. “Why are you so eager to get out of here? You just got here a day ago. Give yourself a break.” 

You swiped at some of the condensation on the outside of your glass. “I just want to get back to my own life. Anyways, what do you all do on weekdays? Is this your lunch break or something?”

“Usually training and paperwork. We mostly just grab lunch when we’re hungry,” said Clint. “This kitchen has all the good food.”

“Speaking of which, I still don’t see any actual food in front of you,” said Steve. “You can’t just run on coffee and an apple all day long.” 

You totally could, but you weren’t going to mention that to him. You retrieved a bag of baby cut carrots from the fridge and walked back to the table. “Food,” you said, holding one up before pointedly taking a bite from it. 

“Tell me you’re not serious.” 

You looked away from him. “Yeah, whatever. I’ll have something later. Milkshakes are very filling.” 

“When’s later? Dinner?” asked James skeptically. “What’d you eat for dinner last night?” 

“I made pasta. And I might have raided the snacks cabinet…” you mumbled around your straw before taking a quick sip. “Before you ask, I was planning on having leftovers tonight. Don’t worry about it.” 

“You can’t blame us for worrying,” said Sam. “As of the moment you’ve got the whole floor to yourself. At least when Peter’s over, Stark has an eye on him.”

“I’m sixteen, not six,” you replied. “I can cook for myself if I’m hungry. I just don’t happen to be hungry right now.” 

James eyed you for a moment. “If you say so,” he said finally. “So, what have you been up to all day?” 

You told them about your argument with Natasha, your college search process, and how you’d messed around in the obstacle course for a little bit. Sam, the only one who’d actually completed post-secondary education, gave you some advice about how his search process had gone and a few more questions to consider for your choice colleges. 

After lunch, they all had work to get back to, and you parted with a promise that you’d eat a full lunch and dinner later. You returned to your room and opened your laptop to continue your research. 

* * *

_ You were back at home. Your father was standing in front of you, waiving around the acceptance letter for Midtown.  _

_ “You think I have the money for this? That I’m gonna send you there just to watch you flunk out? When’d you apply here, huh? Behind my back? What else are you sneaking off to do?” That wasn’t a letter for Midtown, it was your acceptance for NYU. _

_ You took a step back. “Nothing! I’m not doing anything, it’s just school!”  _

_ You looked around. Why were you home? Wasn’t your father arrested? Hadn’t you been at the tower? _

Your eyes snapped open. You were at the tower. It had been a nightmare. You were sitting at your desk, with your laptop open in front of you. The computer, much like you, had fallen asleep. “Fucking hell...” you breathed. You shut the laptop and sat up. “FRIDAY, no one heard me, right?” 

“No, Miss. Soundproofing was enabled as you had requested.” 

You had discovered that feature the night before. “Good,” you stated. Looked like another sleepless night. You left the desk and moved towards the living room area and party deck. You needed some fresh air. 

It was your first time outside since arriving at the tower, and the air was chillier than you’d been expecting. It still had the summer’s warmth, but perhaps it was the altitude that made it colder. You crossed your arms over your body and observed the city mindlessly. The night was just as cold as it had been when you’d left your apartment, and you knew you couldn’t stay out there for long. 

“Mrow?” You turned towards the sound quickly. A young black cat was sitting by the light, with emerald green eyes. It made its way to you as you walked towards it. 

You squatted down and held your hand out for it. The cat headbutted your palm and you pet it gently. “No collar… I didn’t hear about anyone bringing in a stray recently. FRIDAY, whose cat is this?” 

She seemed to hesitate before replying with “No one’s, miss.” 

“What do you mean no one, a cat can’t just show up out of nowhere. Someone had to let this lil guy in here, right? It’s not like it has magic.” You paused. Green eyes. Black hair. No discernable signs of ownership. You fisted the scruff of his neck, holding him up to eye level as he fought to escape with loud yowls. “Wow, Loki. I didn’t realize you could turn into a kitten. I mean, really, I’d think you’d be more… I dunno. Regal. Seriously, I could throw you off this building right now all too easily.”

With a green flash, he was back in his human (or rather, asgardian) form. “You wouldn’t throw a kitten off the side of a building,” he said, rubbing the nape of his neck with a groan. “Once again, I’m surprised by the lack of yelling.” 

“Yeah? Well, my life can’t get any worse than it already is,” you grumbled. “I mean, it can, but you don’t really have any say over whether it would or wouldn’t, so I’m not going to throw a tantrum over it.” 

“I’m sorry about the last time we crossed paths,” he said. “Truely, I am.”

“You’re only sorry because you got caught.” 

“I must admit that’s a rare occurrence. For a mortal like yourself to notice so quickly is admirable,” he said. You rolled your eyes. “And if it’s any consolation, I wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what I saw if I had been able to make sense of any part of it.” 

“Doesn’t matter at this point, anyways,” you said. “The team knows everything there is to know about me.” 

“Really? Is that why you’re up in the middle of the night, then? Trying to find solace?” 

You scoffed. “So you do know how to ask questions, then.” 

He nodded as if to say  _ I deserved that _ . “And I see you know how to deflect them.” 

You looked out towards the city skyline. What was one more person knowing? “I couldn’t sleep. I got kicked out of my apartment on saturday and haven’t slept through the night since. Not that I’m surprised.” 

“About which part?” 

“The restlessness. And getting kicked out, so, both. I was kicked out before, it’s not like I was wholly unprepared to handle the situation.” 

You took a seat in one of the deck chairs. You were going to be out there for a while, you might as well get cozy.

“May I?” asked Loki, pointing towards a seat. 

“Yeah whatever magic man,” you grumbled. “Don’t touch me, though.”

“As you wish.” He kept a chair between you both as he took his seat. “Both myself and my brother have been banished from Asgard before. We returned eventually.” 

You observed the city in front of you. It wasn’t the same. They’d been able to return, there was no way you’d go back. “Yeah? And what’s the story there?” 

“Well, Thor ended up with his powers again and is currently the reigning king. I ended up in a wormhole and later attempted to conquer midgard, after which I was imprisoned. Now I’m here.” 

“That’s lame.” 

“Really?” he asked drily. “Which part?” 

“Your storytelling skills. I mean seriously, there’s no middle. What’d you do in a wormhole? Where’d you end up? How’d Thor get his powers? How’d he even lose him? Did you both end up here or somewhere else?”

“No where you would enjoy hearing about,” he said quietly. “It was rather unpleasant.” 

You shifted your gaze to him. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“You couldn’t have known,” he said. He looked skyward. “You know, it’s rather unfortunate you can’t see the stars from midgard.” 

You copied his actions. “You can. Just not from the city. Too much light pollution.” You curled in on yourself, trying to hide from the chill. “My family used to have a cabin up north. It took five and half hours of driving to get there, but totally worth it. I used to love that place. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone, though.” You were pretty sure your father had sold it by now. 

“Why?” 

“I was in a car crash the last time. Haven’t gone in a car since then and there’s no other way to get to it. Not a reasonable one, at least. It was gorgeous, though,” you added, trying not to get too caught up in your recent nightmares. “We used to set up a few blankets and my mom would point out all the different constellations. I remember one summer, right before I turned eight, we painted the ceiling of my room with glow in the dark paint so it’d match a map of the stars. It was a mess, but it was crazy fun.” You sighed deeply and spared him a glance. “Your turn. What was Asgard like?”

“Asgard?” He turned to you in surprise and you nodded. “Well… there was no place like it.” He told you tales of all the pranks he’d play on Thor and the townspeople, spun stories of the trouble he’d get into, and described gardens that blossomed even in the winter, with flowers of all sorts of colors and properties. “My mother taught me a warming spell for when we wanted to walk while it was snowing. If you want, I can demonstrate.” 

“What?” you asked. “What do you mean, demonstrate?”

“It’s a simple spell. You seem cold. Really, you should probably go inside, but if you want to stay for longer...” Glowing green swirls rose from his hand like a small flame. It reminded you of the images of the northern lights you’d seen.

You watched him warily. “How do I know I should trust you? Aren’t you supposed to be incapable of magic with those bracelets on?” 

“I’m limited, not incapable. It's a simple spell, really, I learned it centuries ago.” He closed his hand and the swirls stopped. “As for whether you should trust me, you could always just go back inside if you don’t.” 

“Or I could just stay here.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re shaking. At the very least you should grab yourself something warmer.” 

You settled further into your seat, only partially out of spite. “Nah.” 

Loki got up and went back in, and you thought that’d be the end of your discussion. He was right, it was pretty cold outside. Was that why he’d gone in? Maybe he didn’t want to perform magic in front of you when you didn’t trust him, didn’t want to make things any worse. It was a shame that he just up and left like that, though, you were enjoying hearing about Asgard. 

To your surprise, Loki returned with a red blanket that you don’t remember ever seeing before. “Here, take this. Before you freeze.” 

You raised an eyebrow, but wrapped the cloth around yourself. You practically melted into its warmth; it was like it’d come straight from the drier. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

He took his seat again and continued his storytelling. He began to quiet down as the sky became a dusty rose color and let you enjoy the sunrise in peace. 

When the sky had finally brightened into a light blue, you stood from your spot.“I’m going back inside.” You folded the blanket. “Where’d you get this from, by the way? I don’t remember seeing it before.” 

“My brother’s apartment. I thought you might like it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why?”

“Our mother placed a warming spell on it ages ago.”

So that’s why it was so comfortable. You examined the bright red. Not likely to be Loki’s. “This must be special to him, then. Are you sure he’d be alright with me borrowing it?” It was a belated question, considering you already had. 

“He wouldn’t mind. He must have at least eight of them, if not ten. And Thor’s rather compassionate, he might actually get excited if he learns that you’ve borrowed it.” Loki gave a small shake of his head as though he thought the behavior ridiculous. “I appreciated the company.” 

You nodded, not sure what to say. “Have you ever had French Toast?” you asked. “Toast dipped in eggs and milk and then fried. Ever had it?”

“Yes, why?” 

“I’m going to make some. I think we got off on the wrong foot last time. You can sit at the table if you want a share.” 

You went inside and prepped the ingredients. If he followed, then he followed. If he didn’t, more french toast for you. As you had expected, he ended up at the table. 

“How’d you like Just Mercy?” you asked over the sound of sizzling oil. “You finished it, right?”

“I found it enjoyable. I read it twice more after I’d completed it. Truly remarkable stories.” 

You nodded. “Stevenson’s a good writer. He’s got a couple of other books, I think, I never got around to reading them.” 

“I didn’t see any in Stark’s collection.” 

You shrugged. “I don’t look at nonfiction often, if I’m being honest. But I don’t think they were ever as popular as that one was.” 

You managed to talk with him about some of your favorite books as you cooked and dished breakfast for the both of you. 

“By the way, I hope you like strawberries,” you said. “Cause I could totally skip putting strawberries on yours but that sounds like it’d taste bland.” 

“I prefer blackberries, but I don’t mind strawberries, no.” 

You rolled your eyes and slid over his three pieces before setting your own plate onto the table. 

“Why’d you give me an extra?” 

“It’s not extra, I just don’t feel like eating much since I’m probably going back to bed after this. I thought you’d want an actual meal.” 

He took a bite with a nod. He then paused and took another. “This is really good,” he said, and took another. “Amazing. Mmm. Pardon me, I haven’t had food like this since I was in Asgard. Before that even, since before I got imprisoned.” 

You smiled at his enthusiasm. Looks like there was a personality underneath the mask of chaos. “Could’ve had a breakfast like this a lot earlier if you hadn’t been an invasive ass.” 

“I already apologized.” 

“I don’t think I ever accepted it.”

“Oh, and that’s my fault?” 

“Yes. You tried breaking into my memories, ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t really cut it.”

“Well then, I apologize for my lackluster apology.” 

The quip drew a smile from you. “You’re going to have to work to earn your forgiveness.” You recalled an odd memory from your father, something he’d said frequently: I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be better. Well, you certainly understood what he had meant.

“Then I suppose I shall.”

Huh. A wonder how that might work out. “Yeah, I won’t be taking your word for it, but thanks for the sentiment.” 

The remainder of breakfast was quiet as you enjoyed your meal.

Which was probably why Clint was surprised when he entered. “What am I looking at?” 

“Good morning to you too,” you said, facing him. “We’re having breakfast. Do you want french toast?”

“What the hell happened?” 

“He was out on the party deck and we exchanged some stories. Turns out that we’ve both been kicked out by our fathers at some point in our lives and both enjoy stargazing. Anyways, do you want some french toast?” 

“They’re really good, you should accept,” said Loki. 

Clint looked between you both. “How do I know these aren’t poisoned?” 

“Because I made them?” you answered. “I don’t plan on poisoning anyone.” 

“No, but these are good enough to kill a man,” complimented Loki. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Now you’re just trying to flatter me, aren’t you?” 

“Obviously it’s not working, so no, of course not, why would I ever do such a thing?” he smirked. “Your cooking is simply excellent.” 

“Uh-huh. Clint, how many pieces do you want? Two? Three? Four?” 

“Three’s fine,” he replied slowly. 

Clint was still standing as you cooked. “So, Clint, has anything interesting happened recently?” 

“Loads of interesting things. Like you and him reconciling.” 

You sighed. “I’m just not the type to hold grudges.” 

Clint entered the kitchen so he could have a quieter conversation with you. “Did he do something? Is he threatening you?” 

“No,” you said quietly. “I’m just not an angry person. I don’t like angry people. And we did actually relate a little.” 

He took the plate from your hand. “Nothing weird going on?” You shook your head. “How are you?”

You shrugged. “I’ve been better, I’ve been worse… Is what it is.” 

“How’s your neck?” 

“Healing.” 

“Well, if it hurts too much, you know who to turn to for sign language lessons.” 

You nodded with a small smile. “I’ve got some stuff to go finish, so I’ll see you later.” 

“Alright, kiddo. You’ve got training at four,” he reminded you. 

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you groaned as you left for your room. Looks like you wouldn’t be stuck doing nothing all day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not me adding some of my colleges to the list… XD I didn't even apply to all the ones I added.   
> I promised you all the Loki would return and would do so kindly. Look at us, starting the new year with a Kind!Sarcastic!Loki... This is good. We're gonna go places. :D  
> Also, I love how some of you just… adopted the name Ace. XD Idk, I just vibe with that, I think it’s sweet. I'll still probably call her Reader, but like... if you refer to her as Ace, I'll go with that too. We can vibe with it. 
> 
> Happy 2021 everyone :) I hope you stay safe and healthy!!


	48. Chapter 48

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologizing in advance for the short chapter.  
> Also: Thank God I had the foresight to upload this in advance bc I am very tired rn. Scholarship season is so not nice.... I wish any and all high school/college students the best of luck.

You were sulking. 

There was no reason to deny it, you’d actively chosen to sulk at that point. A week ago you would’ve been ecstatic for the day, but then the whole situation with your father  _ happened _ and now you were in your room, avoiding everyone else and skipping training, which meant any minute now…

_ Knock, knock, knock. _

Just as expected. “Y/n. I know you’re in there.” 

You didn’t say anything. 

The doorknob twisted open and you turned your head to Natasha. “You know, I could’ve been sitting around in my underwear,” you said. 

“I was a model for five months, I’ve seen people in underwear before,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Being an angsty teenager.” 

She entered the room and shut the door behind her. “Budge over.” 

You moved from the center of the bed to the edge, mentally preparing for a lecture. Instead of her sitting, however, she laid beside you. “What are we angsting over?”

“Peter coming back.” 

Natasha turned to you. “I thought you liked Peter.” 

“Exactly.”

You heard Natasha laugh. Actually laugh. It might’ve been satisfying if it weren’t at your expense. “Okay, I’m going to need an explanation. Why are we angsting?” 

“Y’know, I don’t think that’s a word.” 

“Doesn’t matter, I just made it one. Why are we angsting over Peter?” 

“Because he’s going to be back and I still haven’t figured out what to tell him,” you complained. “Like ‘Hi, Peter, so sorry I couldn’t come greet you at the school, I’m on house arrest at the tower because my father turned out to be working for an evil secret organization. How was your trip?’ doesn’t really have a ring to it.” 

“Ah. I dunno, it’s a pretty accurate description, and it’s concise.” 

You grabbed the pillow from behind you and slammed it over your face. “It’s so awkward, though,” you groaned. 

“How is that awkward?”

“You wouldn’t get it, you’re not a teenager.” 

“Either speak louder or take the pillow off your face.” 

You removed the pillow and turned to her. “I said ‘you wouldn’t get it, you’re not a teenager.’”

“Ouch. Are you calling me old?” 

“I’m calling you not a teenager.” 

“Whatever. So, what makes it awkward? That’s literally the situation. Unless you’re nervous about living with him,” she teased. The pillow went back over your head. “Oh my God, you are, aren’t you?” 

“No,” you lied. 

“Why are you nervous about that? Sounds like it could be fun,” she suggested. You smacked her with the pillow. “I didn’t mean it like  _ that _ .” 

You pulled the pillow off of her and hugged it to your chest. “I don’t know. I just…  _ Peter  _ is just… He was here first. He knows what it’s like. He’s used to things around here,” you confided. “I’m not. And I don’t mean to complain, it’s way better than being on the streets, but I don’t know what I’m doing here. I mean, I know  _ why _ , but like…” You were stuck. It seemed pretty clear what you were and weren’t allowed to do, and you didn’t want to try asking about anything. 

“You don’t know where you fit in yet,” finished Natasha. “Which is totally fine, none of us did at first. I mean, saving the world is a bit of a bonding experience, but we still had to figure out what we were doing. It took a couple of years. And then there was the fight, and that had everyone off-balance for a while. There were a few months of awkward reconciling before we got back together again.” 

“Yeah, but you all belong together.” 

“Well, you belong here too,” she said before changing the topic. “Did you eat anything today?” 

“I finished the stash of snacks that I brought to my room.” 

“That’s not real food. Come on.” Natasha got off the bed and pulled you up. 

“Noooo.” 

“You just admitted to not having any food in here. You’ll have to leave eventually.” 

“Eventually means later.” 

“Are you seriously going to do this?” she deadpanned.

You pouted at her disappointment and got up. 

“Thank you.” 

You followed her into the hall until you caught the sound of a familiar voice. “- leaning tower of Pisa was so cool! We go to go all the way up, too. Did you know the reason it doesn’t fall is because its center of gravity is still at its base? Basically-” Peter continued to explain as you turned around. 

Natasha grabbed your arm. “Nope, come on.” 

“Natasha!” you hissed. “I’m not doing this. Did you know he was here?” 

“He’s been here for the last hour.” 

“FRIDAY, you were supposed to warn me,” you said, trying to pull your arm from Natasha. 

“Agent Romanoff requested to tell you herself.” 

You turned your betrayed look to her. “That’s what happens when you skip training. Come on.” 

You tried your best not to budge. You went as far as to grab the door frame. “Natasha, no, I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

“Just let me cover up my neck first,” you pleaded. You had been lounging in your pajamas all day and hadn’t been expecting to make an appearance, which meant your bruises were on full display. “Please.”

“Fine. But you’re facing him after.” 

“I’m changing too,” you informed her. 

“I’ll give you five minutes before I come in there and dress you myself,” she said as you shut the door of the closet. 

You inspected the clothes in front of you. Most of them were the expensive ones Natasha and Pepper had bought with you. You chose a shirt and pants that you decided would look nice together before exiting and making your way into the bathroom to do your makeup. 

“Just your neck,” said Natasha when you reached for the concealer. 

“What? Come on.” 

“You’re going to be living with him, he’ll see you without makeup at some point anyways.” 

You grumbled about it not necessarily having to be so soon. You finished what you were doing before quickly swiping a bit of concealer under your eyes. 

“Have you been getting enough sleep?” asked Natasha instead of stopping you. 

“I’ve been sleeping,” you replied. “Just not well. I’m fine.” 

“Rumor has it that you said that before passing out once.” 

“That was different. I’ve actually been trying to sleep. I just haven’t gotten used to being here yet.” 

“If you say so.” 

Everyone was in the kitchen when you got there. “Uh, hi, Peter. Welcome back,” you smiled. 

“Y/n! I didn’t know you were coming. When’d you get here?” he asked enthusiastically, getting up from his seat.

You walked a little closer. “Uh, a while ago,” you said vaguely. “Sorry, I should’ve come out earlier. I didn’t know you were here either.” 

“It’s fine, I mean, I’m a little surprised to be honest. It’s good to see you, though.” He gave you a quick hug. “I don’t mean to be rude, but uh, what’re you doing here? I mean, you said you wouldn’t be able to meet us at the school, I thought you were busy.” 

And there was the question. Which he had asked in front of everyone. Great. “Yeah, um… Turns out my dad was a criminal, so here I am.” Cue the internal screaming. “Anyways, how was your trip?” you rushed out after. 

“Wait, your dad…” 

“Got arrested. By SHIELD. Like a week ago. My apartment is kind of under investigation and I’m sort of living here now, I guess.” You laughed nervously. It was getting awfully warm all of the sudden. “I didn’t want to mention it while you were travelling. I would’ve gone to meet you at the school, like you said, but I’m sort of not allowed to leave so… Y’know. I couldn’t. Um…” 

Peter nodded a few times. “That… sounds intense.” 

“Just a little.”  _ Do you see this Natasha? Do you see this? This is fucking awkward! _ “Ah, did I interrupt lunch? Sorry. I’ll just go.” You hooked a thumb behind you. 

“No, no, stay,” Peter said quickly. “You’re not interrupting.” 

“He’s right, Ace. Come on, have a seat. I’ll go grab some more plates.” 

Peter took the seat beside his mentor and you took the empty seat between Peter and Clint. “So, how was England? Did you visit the queen?” 

“No, but we got to tour one of the royal gardens. It was pretty chill.” 

You listened to him share the events of his vacation as you squished your anxiety into a tight coil in the back of your mind. Now Peter knew, which was incredibly awkward. Everyone was discussing their visits to various parts of the world too, and you were the only one who couldn’t chime in. You’d never had a reason to leave the country, the farthest you’d been from the state of New York was that one spring break you’d gone to visit Sam while he was in D.C. You wanted to disappear.

When Peter finally pointed out that he should get going so he could greet May when she got back from work, you tried to sound disappointed. You weren’t entirely sure if it worked, but you gave Peter another quick hug goodbye and promised to see him soon. 

Back in your room, you stuffed your face into one of the pillows. The memory of the lunch kept replaying in your head as you thought of every other way that discussion could have gone. It was funny how you only thought of what to say  _ after _ the event. 

Well, at least Peter knew. Now you just had to figure out what it’d be like to live with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should've uploaded this last week but like... I'm struggling with writing rn. I'm still writing and I 100% plan to get this finished but _my goodness this fic is so long._ And I don't want to upload chapters until I fix this problem I accidentally made of Peter being out of character. So I'm going to remedy that and hopefully we'll be back with a few more double updates.  
> I'm sorry my writing is taking a slower pace than usual and my posting too. The next chapter is gonna be really REALLY angsty, and then there's a lot of fluff after that. The action picks back up around chapter 53 which is like 4 or 5 weeks from now. It's Peter fluff tho. I know you guys missed him.  
> \---  
> On a second note, _**TW: US Politics**_  
>  I am absolutely disgusted with what happened at the US Capital on Wednesday, January 6th. If you weren't aware, Trump supporters stormed the White House while congress was in session. It's nothing short of disgraceful that the officers stood by. They just stood there and let violent domestic terrorists (which is exactly what they were) into the capital. I have the sincerest hopes that we can make it to January 20th without any more major events like that one, and that afterwards the U.S can run a more peaceful democracy.  
>  ** _End TW_**  
>  \-----  
> I sincerely hope my readers of color; my readers of jewish, muslim, or otherwise-minority faith; my readers on the LGBTQ+ spectrum; my neurodivergent readers; my readers that are disabled in any way; and any of you that I have missed all stay safe. It is a very scary world out there. If anyone wants to reach out, I have recently updated my profile page, with ways to reach me listed in at the bottom. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and once again, please stay safe out there ❤❤❤


	49. Chapter 49

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you break a hand.   
> Also in which bets are placed.  
>  **Severe TW:** PTSD dream, Explicit self destructive behavior / self-h*rm in the form of hitting a punching bag w/o protection, discussions of self destructive behaviors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst adds some ~flavor~ don't you think?

_ There was an ad on the radio. _

_ “What is it with all of these advertisements?” said your mom from the driver’s seat. She turned the dial to change the channel, but it was all white noise.  _

_ “Just turn it off,” you told her. _

_ “What was that y/n/n?” She turned to face you. “Did you say something?”  _

_ The white noise faded. “Mom no, look at the road!” The light was bright. You could feel the tightening of your seatbelt. _

_ You opened your eyes and suddenly you were no longer in the car.  _

_ “It’s your fault. It’s your fault she’s gone,” said your father. But then it wasn’t him; it was Steve. “It’s your fault your dad’s a criminal, you should’ve done more for him. You shouldn’t be here. Get out.”  _

_ “No. No, please, I’m sorry. No.” _

“No.” Your eyes snapped open. It was a dream. You sat up and tossed a pillow across the room. You couldn’t get one damn night of sleep. You got up and snatched the pillow from the ground. Your hands were aching to smack something. Anything. Hard and fast. You changed out of your pajamas and tugged on some socks and shoes before exiting. The clock you’d passed in the kitchen read  _ 6:12 A.M _ . Four and a half hours. A new record. 

The gym was empty and you went straight to the punching bag you normally used. “One. God. Damn. Night. Is that too much to ask for?” You kicked it with an aggressive scream. 

“Miss y/l/n, may I suggest that you wrap your hands before continuing?” 

“I don’t  _ care _ , FRIDAY.” You hit the bag again as you spoke. It felt… Good. Solid.  _ Satisfying _ . 

“Miss, please, not wrapping your hands-” 

“Natasha already gave me that spiel,” you shouted. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. My knuckles and my wrists, and if I fuck them up then they’re  _ my  _ consequences to deal with. Just like how everything is  _ my _ problem to deal with. Can’t get a  _ single. Goddamn. Night. _ Of sleep here and I have to  _ fucking  _ deal with it. Can’t do a single  _ fucking  _ thing about my  _ stupid  _ throat except cover it up and  _ wait _ . I can’t do  _ anything  _ to help with the lieutenant’s case. I just have to  _ sit here _ and  _ wait _ . And  _ train _ .” At that, you kicked the bag again. It swung wildly and you were forced to straighten it. 

Seeing the momentum of your hit, the physical manifestation of your energy… There was just a certain dark satisfaction underneath all the anger, a desire for more of the same, more of the clarity it provided. Thick tears were rolling down your face as you kept hitting the bag, longing to see, hear, feel everything going on in your head. 

“For  _ what _ ? I don’t even know when I’m going back to school! I don’t even have half of my stuff with me! You know that mug that Mr. Stark made? It’s probably sitting in my kitchen cabinet with my  _ entire  _ collection! And I can’t even go out and start it up again because I don’t have the money for that because I had to quit my job. So don’t  _ fucking  _ tell me what to do, FRIDAY. If I want to ruin my hands then I will do as I  _ goddamn please _ and you won’t do  _ anything  _ about it!” 

The gym went silent. The only sounds to be heard were your loud, heavy pants and grunts, and the sounds of your fists, or sometimes feet, hitting the bag. You steadied the bag a few times, and caught your breath as you did. You stopped once to use the bathroom and grab some water but continued right after. You relished the sting of your fists against the tough material of the bag, oddly enticed by the stains forming in front of you. 

Until you heard “What are you doing?” 

Your hand hit the bag at an odd angle as you startled. “Working out,” you replied sharply, getting your posture set again.  _ Shit, shit, shit, that really fucking hurt. Shit. That’s bad. Damn it. _

“No, you’re not,” snapped James. You ignored him in favor of hitting the bag with your other hand. “Hey!” You yanked your arm away from him as he turned you around to face him. You shoved him away harshly, but he grabbed your forearms. “Hey,  _ quit it _ .” 

“Let me go.” 

“No. Explain yourself.” 

“I don’t see what there is to  _ explain _ .” You pulled harder, but his grip was firm.

“Then maybe you should take a look at your hands and  _ stop fighting me _ .” He moved as you tried to kick him.

“Then let me go.” 

“Why? So you can keep hurting yourself?” 

“Maybe! What’s it matter to you, anyways?” 

“It matters to me because I care about you,” he barked. You stopped. “Yeah, think about that. I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself. And I’m not going to leave and let that happen.” 

You sniffled and directed your gaze to the freshly bloodied punching bag as you processed his words. 

“Goodness, doll, what did you do?” he asked, inspecting your hands. “Why?” 

“I was angry. It felt good.” 

“How good it felt doesn’t matter,” he said. He twisted your hands so you could see the damage. The skin on your knuckles and the bottom of your fingers was, unsurprisingly, raw and bleeding. “This isn’t an acceptable solution.  _ No form of hurting yourself is an acceptable solution.  _ Ever. Is that understood?” 

You closed your eyes and nodded, still breathing heavily. 

“Say it. No form of hurting yourself is an acceptable solution.” 

“No form of hurting myself-” You took a quick breath. “- is an acceptable solution. I understand.” 

“Is there anything else I should know about?” 

You shook your head. 

“I can’t help with things you’re hiding from me.”

“I’m not,” you choked out. “I’ve never done anything like that. I was just angry. I won’t do it again.” 

He released a sigh and finally let go of your arms. “Let's get you up to medical. FRIDAY.” 

“Shall I call Dr. Johnson?” 

“Yes, please.” 

You shuffled your feet on the way to the elevator. “I’m sorry. You probably didn’t want to start your day like this.” 

“You’re right, I didn’t.” You tried to ignore the burning in your eyes. At some point during your fit of rage, you’d stopped crying, but the tears were threatening to come back. The pain in your hand wasn't helping and neither was the crystal clear disappointment James held in his tone. “Steve and I just got back from our run. FRIDAY said you were down here with no signs of stopping and that you’d been at it for nearly forty minutes.” 

“I was angry.” Which slowly seemed to become more and more of an understatement. 

“So you’ve said. What I want to know is what made you angry.” 

There was too much to say. “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

He tugged at his hair. You heard him mutter something you couldn’t catch, but you figured it was nothing good. 

James directed you onto one of the beds in the medbay and watched you. Disapproval was written plainly on his face, weighing on you heavily.  _ Why is he judging me so much? It was a lapse of judgement. One mistake…  _

A door across the room opened, revealing a woman with dirty blonde hair tied into a ponytail. “Good morning, Amy,” greeted James.

The blonde woman smiled kindly. “James, good to see you doing well. And…” 

“Y/n,” you supplied. “Hi.” 

“Hello, y/n, it’s good to meet you properly.” Properly? Did you meet before? “I’m Dr. Johnson, but you can call me Amy if that makes you more comfortable. I’d shake your hand but that doesn’t seem like the best idea right now. Do you mind if I take a look?” 

You held out your hands, palms down, as you turned to look away from both her and James. 

She took them in her own and spent a bit of time inspecting them. “Can you stretch your fingers?” You did with a forceful exhale. “How about making a fist?” You tried your best. “Did either of those hurt?” 

Your bottom lip was quivering, and there were tears running down your face, but you simply said “I guess, but I can deal with it.” 

“Alright, well, let’s get your hands cleaned off first and then I’d like to do an x-ray after.” 

“Okay.” 

You stared numbly at the bright red blood as she gathered supplies. “So, what’d you hit?” 

“A punching bag.”

She nodded. “Must’ve been at it for a while, huh?” 

Your eyebrows jumped in an unimpressed manner. 

“FRIDAY said at least forty minutes,” supplied James. You were certain facts could not be stated more judgementally than the way he’d said it. If only he’d just shut up for a minute and let you sit in your regret instead of making petty jabs.

There was a small table that Amy, Dr. Johnson, whatever, rolled in front of you. “This might sting,” she warned, taking your hand in hers. You grit your teeth as she began. “You should wrap your hands if you’re going to use a punching bag.”

“Yeah, I know. FRIDAY’s a fucking snitch,” you muttered. “It’s impossible to get away with anything here.” There wasn’t even that much to do.

Something you had said must’ve gotten onto James’ nerves, because he said “We are going to have words later, young lady,” which was really just a fancy way of him saying he was planning to yell at you. 

After your hands were clean, Dr. Johnson led you to an x-ray room, where a nurse met them. Mr. Stark really didn’t pull any stops; he probably had a whole hospital’s worth of equipment on that floor. It took about ten minutes to take the x-rays and you waited with James for another ten for results. 

“Well,” said Dr. Johnson, retrieving something from a cabinet as she returned. “You’re going to need to wear a splint for at least three weeks and limit the use of your [dominant] hand.” 

Welp. That sucks. “Okay,” you replied impassively.

She bandaged your hands first. After that, she showed you the splint and how it went on. Then she gave you a bottle of Tylenol that you were instructed to take for pain. 

“Thank you,” you said. 

“Of course. And I hope to see you here in a week and a half to make sure that’s healing alright, maybe around ten?” 

“Ten a.m ten days from now,” you repeated. “Got it.” 

“Thank you, Amy,” said James. He said something more quietly as you made your way to the elevator. “FRIDAY, don’t let her go up without me,” he added in the middle. 

You waited for him in the elevator, rolling your eyes before you turned around to watch him approach. He pressed the button to shut the door. “We can have this discussion in your room or in my living room.” 

“Don’t see what there is to discuss,” you said, hitting the button for the main level. 

“Oh, there’s plenty.” 

Sam and Steve were already in the kitchen when you walked past to your room and you internally cringed. At least Peter wasn’t around. He was spending time at home with May after having been gone for so long. You crossed your arms in an effort to hide the splint. “Morning,” you muttered. 

You received two hesitant “Good morning”s back. 

James was on your heels right until you were in your room. You sat on the unmade bed and he straddled the desk chair. His arms were folded on the chair’s back and he rested his chin on top. “So, what made you angry?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” 

You could already tell this was going to be a long, boring, gainless discussion. “You wouldn’t be able to help me if I did tell you so I don’t see the point.” 

“You won’t know that unless you tell me.” 

“That’s a logical fallacy.” 

“Is that so?” 

You nodded. “I’m very capable of thinking things through, so I definitely know that you can’t help.” 

“That’s a logical fallacy,” echoed James.

“Oh really?” you deadpanned. 

“Mmhm. I have more life experience than you, so I might have solutions you can’t think of. So, why were you mad? And why were you up at six in the morning?” 

“Because I woke up.” 

“So you woke up and just decided it’d be a good idea to hit a punching bag for forty minutes without any type of protection. On a whim." 

You fought a small smirk back into your emotionless facade. When it was put like that, it was almost funny. “Sounds about right.” 

“If I may,” said FRIDAY.

“You may  _ not _ ,” you said immediately. 

“FRIDAY, ignore her for a minute. What were you going to say?” requested James. 

“Miss y/l/n appears to have been suffering from nightmares.” 

“FRIDAY,” you groaned. “That’s private.”

“Furthermore-”

“Oh, no, no, no. No furthermore,” you interrupted. 

FRIDAY continued without pause “- during her session, Miss y/l/n expressed anxiety over her father’s case, among other topics such as moving out of her old apartment and school.” 

“I didn’t,” you protested. “I was angry, there’s a difference.” 

“Shall I play the recording?” 

“Yes,” said James, at the same time you shouted “No!” 

“No, James, you don’t-” 

“Quiet. I gave you a chance to tell me.” 

“Yeah and I didn’t want to, why don’t you just respect my privacy and drop it?”

“I did! I respected your privacy, and you ended up breaking your hand.” He gestured sharply to your hand as he spoke.

“Correlation not causation,” you defended frantically. Hopefully FRIDAY hadn’t turned off soundproofing, otherwise the whole tower would probably hear your argument.

He threw his arms wide causing you to flinch back. “Why are you so keen on shutting me out?” 

“Because I’m scared!” you admitted. “Okay? That’s it. You want the truth, there it is. I am terrified. I am in a building with like, ten other people who actually interact with each other and fit together and  _ belong  _ here and are  _ totally  _ unpredictable to me. I used to see my father twice a day at most, the only time we had full conversations were about work or school or events and guess what? He got arrested, I quit my job, and I’m not even sure if I’ll be back to school by the time my senior year starts. 

“I worked my ass off for a scholarship I might lose after three whole years. I can’t even leave this building to go buy myself a cup of coffee or- or take a walk. And everyone keeps asking how I’m doing and if I’ve had something to eat or slept or whatever and you know what? I’m doing terribly, okay? Terribly. It feels like my throat is taking forever to heal and I’m a nervous wreck. I am angry and stressed and tired, so tired,” your voice cracked as you said it. “I hate it so much. I haven’t slept a full night in over a week because this entire building is so fucking cold all the time.” You sat at the edge of the bed, not sure when you’d even stood up, and buried your face in your hands. You took a few fast, heavy breaths. “Everything sucks,” you summarized. 

There were a few beats of silence as you calmed your breathing, fighting back the tears. You’d cried enough for one morning.

“O-kay.” You felt the bed dip beside you, which was the only warning to the warm hand rubbing your back. “The offer is still open for the room in our apartment. It’s a bit warmer up there. Steve and I, we hate sleeping in the cold too.” 

You shook your head, pulling away from him. “I’d hate to intrude.” 

“You wouldn’t be, I’m inviting you.” 

“Out of pity. Which I don’t want.” 

James hummed considerably. “I’m guessing that’s why you’re so determined to keep things to yourself.” 

“Maybe.” Maybe it was because you didn't really have a choice.

“It’s not just pity. It’s because I care for you. Steve cares for you. Romanoff, and Barton, and Stark, and everyone, we care for you.” 

You shifted uncomfortably. That was a lot of people. Care didn’t come by itself, either, it came with expectations; particularly the expectation that it would be reciprocated. And while you certainly cared for them, would you really say it? Like that? You weren’t confident you would. 

“Y’know, you could probably ask Stark for a space heater if you want,” said James. “If you really don’t want to spend your days with two one-hundred-year-old men.” 

Well, there was an idea. A really simple idea that you should’ve thought of. “I guess so.” 

“You can take a nap in our apartment before then. Come on.” 

“Uh, can we take the stairs?” you requested on your way out. “I don’t really feel like facing anyone in the kitchen.” 

James accepted your request, leading you down the hall. “You realize I have to tell Steve, right?”

“Yeah, but not Sam. Or anyone else.” 

“What is it with you two?” James asked as you exited into the stairwell. “You and Sam. The way you two act around each other… If he wasn’t twenty-six years too old for you, I’d think you had a messy breakup.” 

That was one way to put it. Now you just had to explain it. “He knew my mom,” seemed vague enough. “I knew him when I was a kid. And then…” Your fingers made their way to the cool metal on your chest, hiding under your shirt before your hand was back at your side. “She passed away. My father didn’t like Sam so… I went five whole years without hearing from him.” 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

You shrugged. “Messy break up does sum it up pretty well. Mostly it was just distance, though.” 

The stairwell opened at the end of the hall near James’ apartment. “Do you remember where everything is from last time or do you need another tour?” 

You kicked off your shoes as you entered. “Yeah, I remember. The door furthest down the hallway.”

“Wash your face first, it’ll help you feel better.” You flinched at the encouraging pat on your shoulder. James was quick to apologize. 

“It’s fine, James, don’t worry about it. I’m gonna go wash up. Hopefully get some more sleep. I’ll come down for team breakfast later, if I’m awake by then.” 

“I’ll just tell the team you wanted some alone time, they’ll understand.” 

You nodded and ventured into the hall with a quick “see you later” as James grabbed something from the kitchen.

It was difficult to keep your cast and splint dry, so you settled for wetting a part of a towel and wiping your face. After some deliberation, you left it to hang where it had been previously and moved to the guest room. You flopped onto the bed. It was as comfortable as you remembered it. After FRIDAY had shaded the windows, you found it difficult to keep your eyes open.

* * *

Bucky grabbed a quick power up snack before going into his room for a shower. He’d gone down to y/n almost as soon as he had returned from his run. FRIDAY had mentioned she’d been at it for a while, and he entered the situation thinking that he’d have to talk her into a break the same way he normally did with Steve. 

When he’d seen what she was actually doing, though, he was quick to pull her away from the bag. He couldn’t believe she was still at it after she had  _ broken her hand _ . How did she not notice that? 

“Hey FRIDAY, could you play that clip you were talking about earlier?” requested Bucky as he combed his hair. 

“Of course, sir. This comes after I told her that she should wrap her hands.” 

Bucky slowed his movements as y/n’s voice came on. “Play it again,” he said when it finished. It was just over a minute long, and Bucky could just barely hear her smacking the bag in the background. He counted the problems she listed on his hands during the second play through. At least six, plus the admission that she was choosing to hurt herself (which made Bucky’s heart clench once again. He couldn’t believe she’d sunk that low and none of them had noticed). Bucky had barely helped her with one solution. He wasn’t even sure if he’d actually helped, for all he knew, she was just sitting up thinking.

He made his way down to the guest room and knocked against the door lightly. “Y/n?” After hearing no response, Bucky cracked the door open just enough to peer in. The light from the hall illuminated her room and revealed her sleeping form. She hadn’t even gotten under the covers. “And you wonder why we’re all worried for you,” Bucky said under his breath, moving towards the closet. He draped a spare blanket over her and made his departure. 

For the first time ever, Bucky was the last one to breakfast. 

“Where’s Ace?” wondered Tony as Bucky entered. 

“Cooling off,” replied Bucky. “She’s mad and she broke her hand.” 

Tony’s eyes widened. “She broke her hand? When?” 

“Around an hour and a half ago,” said Bucky. “She decided to take her aggressions out on a punching bag and didn’t wrap her hands before. We had a talk.” 

“I taught her how to wrap her hands,” said Natasha. “She should have known better.” 

Bucky shrugged and shook his head as he sat beside Steve. “She wasn’t thinking straight. She just needs some alone time; I’m sure she’s learned her lesson well enough.”

“Am I the only one who finds it odd y/n was up so early?” wondered Pepper. “Has anyone here actually seen or heard from her before nine thirty on any given day?” 

A round of no’s were expressed. 

“She doesn’t like being here,” said Bucky bluntly. “Not that she doesn’t like us or anything, she’s just not used to it.” 

“She told you that?” asked a skeptical Clint. 

“More like shouted it, but I got the gist, yeah.” And he’d listened to the recording FRIDAY provided. “It makes sense, she went from basically living by herself to having all of us. She needs time to adjust.” Just like he had. Really, he shouldn’t have missed that. None of them should have.

“So she’s skipping breakfast,” said Steve. “Did she even eat anything earlier?” 

“She promised me she’d grab something later.” Bucky moved his hand so it was palm up beside him. Steve slipped his hand in. “I’m more worried about her hand, honestly,” he said, squeezing Steve’s hand twice.  _ Talk later, _ that second squeeze signalled. 

“Is it bad?” wondered Pepper. 

Bucky smirked. “Well, it’s broken.” Pepper gave him her usual  _ are you serious? Just answer _ look, and the smirk fell. “She’s in a splint for three weeks.” 

“Yeesh,” said Clint. “That won’t be fun.” 

“At least it’s going to be off before the kids start school,” voiced Tony. 

“About that,” said Bucky. “She is going back to school, right?” He directed his question to Natasha, who seemed to be in charge of y/n for the time being. 

“Yes,” answered Natasha. “She’s going back on the first day.”

Bucky filed the information away for later. “What’s the plan for that?” 

“So far, it’s just to let her go, make sure she stays out of the spotlight. There’s going to be a few agents stationed around the building, but the trail’s gone cold.” Natasha took a sip of her coffee. “Until we can figure out where the sheriff is, we’ve got nothing. It looks like he was the one in charge of recruitment and delegation. Every staff member will have undergone an interrogation and a short briefing by the end of next Thursday. NDA’s should be in by the Wednesday after.” 

Pepper began to set some plates of food at the table with Sam and Natasha’s help. “That’s a lot. I mean, I’m glad there’s precautions, but really, every staff member?” 

“The physics teacher was involved with the same circle as y/n’s dad,” said Tony. “He was already arrested.” 

“Got it,” said Pepper quickly. “At least y/n and Peter will be able to watch each others’ backs.” 

Clint snorted. “Unless they’re too busy gazing into each others’ eyes.” 

That set the group off on a tangent about how the teenagers hadn’t gotten together after nearly four months of making heart eyes at each other. 

“I told y/n that it might be fun to live across from Peter and she smacked me with a pillow,” said Natasha. “So there’s that.” 

“You really think either of them would get their courage up so soon?” asked Clint. “I’ve got ten bucks on them not getting together until winter break.”

Sounds of dissent filled the air. “Before then,” said Tony. “Together by homecoming. I’ll put fifty on it.”

“Fifty?” asked Sam. “Man, no way they’re getting together that soon. I’ll take you up on that.” 

“End of November at the least,” agreed Bucky. “Before or on Christmas. Twenty dollars. Stark, I’ll take you up on that bet.” 

“FRIDAY are you catching all this?” asked Tony. 

“Yes, Boss.” 

“Wait, wait, we’ve gotta keep this fair. No coercion, no ‘little nudges in the right direction,’ none of that, this has to happen naturally,” said Steve. The men all agreed. “Clint, between winter break? Is that your bet?” 

“I said not before winter break. What happens after that first day is anyone’s guess,” he corrected. “I’ll match Barnes. If it’s between winter break starting and Christmas, then we’re both right. If not… extra twenty for me.” 

“If it’s before winter break, extra for me,” said Bucky. Clint nodded. “Alright then, Barton, you’re on.”

After the conversation regarding the two teenagers and the completion of breakfast (and breakfast clean up), everyone went their separate ways. 

“Was there something you wanted to mention earlier?” asked Steve as they stepped into their apartment. “When we were talking about y/n.” 

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. She’s napping in the guest room right now.” Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “Apparently we’re not the only ones with aversions to the cold. She’s been having trouble sleeping in her room, so I invited her back up here.” 

“Okay… Is she… staying here?”

“I left the choice up to her. I told her Stark would buy her a space heater if she asked, she didn’t really say much after that.” 

“Got it.” 

Bucky’s tone took on a more serious note. “Are you okay with it? I know we had this discussion but…” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m… less worried than I was. I’m just glad she feels... comfortable. Hopefully, she’ll feel safe, if she doesn’t already.” 

Bucky smiled. That was the Steve he knew. Always thinking of others before himself, always protecting them. Bucky leaned forward for a light kiss. “Thank you,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s lips. 

Steve kissed him back. “Gotta be more careful with these if y/n going to live with us. Don’t want her walking in on the wrong moment.” 

“She’s probably still asleep,” Bucky answered, a blissful smile on his face. “I’ll wake her up later, we can talk then.”

He ended up knocking on y/n’s door around one, worry creeping into him when he realized she’d slept the whole morning away. He heard a muted groan and opened the door. She had shoved a pillow over her head, seemingly returning to sleep. 

“y/n? Do you want some lunch?” 

She slowly removed the pillow to face him. “Lunch?” she questioned groggily. “What time is it?”

“Nearly one. C’mon, Steve made sandwiches.”

She pulled herself out of bed. “Can I have some ice for my hand?” she requested as they made their way down the hall. 

“Yeah. Are you feeling any better?” 

“I mean, I finally got some decent sleep, so I guess so." She crossed her arms over her body defensively. "I’m sorry for yelling.” 

“Eh, you were sleep deprived, I don’t blame you,” Bucky told her. “I’ve been there.” More than enough times to count. 

When they got to the kitchen, Y/n waved at Steve with her good hand; or better hand, considering they were both injured. 

“Hey, angel. Good to see you out of bed. How’s the hand? Or hands, I guess.”

“Well…” Y/n raised her bandaged hand. “Bruised.” She then raised the one in her splint. “Broken. Could be worse.” 

Bucky retrieved the icepack she had requested. “Be grateful it isn’t. Have you ever broken a bone before? It sucks.”

“Yes, I know. I broke my collarbone when I was ten and I fractured my arm once, maybe four years ago now.” Bucky and Steve stared at her, waiting for the explanation. “What?” 

“What’s the story?” asked Steve. “You can’t just say you broke a bone and not say how.” 

“You totally can,” she scoffed. “It’s not even a story, I was in a car crash. Super lame.” 

Bucky looked through the exaggerated carelessness to her tight, closed off posture. Either she was lying or she didn’t like talking about it. “What about the other one? You said they were a few years apart.” 

“I broke my arm when I fell down the stairs, running to catch my train to school,” y/n said quietly. “So I ended up late anyways.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she said “Again, super lame. It’s not like I was climbing a tree, or something fun. Just bad luck.” 

“Bad luck, huh? Well, good thing we have an elevator here,” joked Steve. 

Y/n’s smile brightened a little as she agreed. 

“I’ve got some updates for you,” said Bucky. “For starters, you get to go back to classes when school starts up.”

Y/n straighted, her bright eyes locking onto his. “Wait, really?”

Bucky smiled. “If I knew you’d be so excited, I might’ve gotten a camera.” 

“I’m actually going back,” she said softly. “Wait, so does that mean… nevermind.” 

Steve swallowed the bite of sandwich in his mouth. “What were you going to ask?” 

“Ah, it can wait,” said y/n. “No business at the table.” 

Bucky nodded. He’d tell her what he could later, and they’d discuss the morning’s events and her decision on where to stay then, too. For now, though, they’d enjoy their lunch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of these dialogue heavy chapters back to back. I’m so sorry about that. Anyways, place your bets folks, when do Reader and Peter end up in a relationship?   
> (I will say that it won't effect my writing because I'm pretty dead set on one idea, but it'd be fun to see what you guys think - how slow do you think this slow burn will be?)
> 
> Thank you all for the well wishes last week, I really appreciated them 💕💕💕 You're all so amazing and kind and wonderful 😭 I promise I'll try to take care of myself and I won't push myself too hard trying to write this.


	50. Chapter 50

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha is patient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 chapters in and the story is still progressing… smh I started this fic thinking it’d be like 60 chapters but definitely not!! Um, happy 50th chapter. Anyways, I was kinda saving Natasha's POV for something special, and I saw the chance so I took it… Enjoy! :)

Natasha Romanoff was a very patient person. She’s had missions that had lasted nearly a year, stake outs that had lasted days, and interrogations that had lasted far too many sessions. Which is why she was only  _ slightly  _ bothered by the amount of time this newest assignment was taking up. Besides, it wasn’t too awful. S.H.I.E.L.D. had faced corruption before, they’d face it again, however deep it went. 

Natasha looked through the window of the room to the drab man in front of her, cuffed to the table. His greying hair was cut short - the typical style for officers - and beginning to thin. He was wearing the short sleeves and sweatpants that S.H.I.E.L.D. had given him and looked entirely too self satisfied as he stared at the door to the room. 

He was y/n’s father. 

Natasha wasn’t going to kill him, not yet. She wanted to, and she could definitely picture him pleading for forgiveness, but the honor of roughing him up didn’t belong to her. Besides that, they still needed information. It had been a week and a half since Natasha and her team had brought him and his group in. Natasha wanted to talk to him herself, to rile him up and see what happened, and so he was the last person to be interrogated. 

So she turned from the window, putting on a sweet smile as she entered. “Logan y/l/n. How are you?”

He gave her a once over as she sat across from him. “They didn’t send you in here to ask that.” 

“You’re right. I have a few more important questions for you.” Natasha opened her file and retrieved a picture of the HYDRA skull. “Are you familiar with this symbol?” 

He picked up the image from where she had left it on the table. “Yeah. It was on the news before.”

“Before what?”

“Before this, of course.”

Smooth. It would be fun to see what he’d let slip when she got him angry. Natasha pulled out another picture. “And this symbol, you’ve seen it before too.” The 13th Alliance’s signature red A, with a 13 in block numbers in the A’s lower half. Found on nearly every paper in y/n’s living room after Steve had tipped her off. Apparently her stakeout had been in the wrong location that night. She was still cursing the bad intel, but that was a thought for another time. 

“I might have,” he replied. “You already knew that, though.” 

“You’re right,” said Natasha, still as sweet as honey. “I just had to make sure.” She pulled out a photo of Richard Downey. “Now this one, I’m a little less sure of. Do you know him?” 

“Can’t say we’ve ever met.” 

Natasha nodded her acknowledgement and moved on. There were a few more pictures, next of the sheriff. “How about this man?” 

“Are you just going to show me pictures and expect me to talk, princess?” 

Natasha didn’t protest the pet name. Not the time for it. So she simply met his eyes and told him “I’m expecting you to answer the questions, so yes, Mr. y/l/n, I am expecting you to talk. Do you know this man?”

His jaw ticked as her unblinking stare got to him. “I might.”

“Interesting,” voiced Natasha. She lowered her voice slightly and leaned in. “Are you sure you don’t want to give those pictures another look, Mr. y/l/n?”

His eyes flicked down to the images before meeting hers. “I don’t know them.” 

Lie number one. Such a shame. She’d been thinking it'd be harder. “You’re an officer, Mr. y/l/n, aren’t you?” 

“You tell me.” Natasha pulled out his badge from the pocket it’d been hiding in, unfolding it for him to see. Logan y/l/n was beginning to look slightly unnerved. “Looks about right then.”

“Don’t you think it’s odd for an officer not to know who their sheriff is, Lieutenant?” she said mockingly. “For him not to recognize his own commanding officer?” Fear flashed in his eyes as she continued smiling. “That is who Mr. Williams is to you, isn’t it?” 

Logan looked back down at the picture. “You could say that.” He was trying so hard… A pity really, there was no way for him to win this game.

“We found a lot of files at your apartment,” said Natasha. “I found the contents very interesting. Do you tend to bring work home a lot or did you just not want to leave Mr. Williams’ assignments at your desk?” The question went unanswered. “You have a lot to hide. I’m sure you have a lot to lose, too. So, why did Williams give you those files?” Of course, Natasha already knew. They wanted to start recruiting ex-cons. But for what?

“I was told I’d get answers after. But it’s a part of my job.” 

“Ah, yes. He was paying you a lot for that to be handled under the table, wasn’t he? Five thousand dollars. Must’ve been important. As long as it made you money, you didn’t ask questions.” The two sat silently, evaluating each other. She could see it in his eyes, he wanted to know what she knew. “What’d you need that money for?”

“Bills. A new suit,” he shrugged. “Maybe a new car.” 

“What about your daughter’s private school?” Natasha levelled, knowing full well that he didn't pay a single dollar towards it. The man narrowed his eyes, sitting up a little straighter. “Tell me, Mr. y/l/n, have you ever met your daughter’s teachers?” 

“No.”

Hm. Must’ve skipped out on parent teacher conferences, then. Not surprising considering his relationship with y/n. Natasha picked up one of the pictures she’d shown earlier. “This is Richard Downey. He taught y/n’s physics class. We have reason to believe that he was working on something for your little alliance. Do you know what his mission was?” 

Logan y/l/n was very, very still. He didn’t know, and Natasha was well aware of that. Apparently he wasn’t willing to admit it.

“I’ll give you time to think about it,” said Natasha, dropping the photo back onto the table. “He knew Chris Williams, though, and he knows you. Very well, I might add. There was a lot he was willing to share.” Natasha paused to give him a chance to speak, but he didn’t. “You and Williams were friends, weren’t you? Brothers-in-arms. And you’re so loyal that you just jumped at the opportunity to be his lapdog.” 

“I’m not his lapdog.” 

Ah, yes. Just the same as everyone else, thinking he was special. That was the thing about these organizations, they made pawns feel like kings. They were still pawns, though, and Natasha was very good at chess.

“You never thought that this was all a distraction? They didn’t want you, Mr. y/l/n. They were keeping you out of the way. Any reason you can think of that would explain that?” Of course, Natasha already knew. They didn’t want Logan y/l/n. No, they wanted y/n. They just needed Logan gone for long enough that they could get to her.

“You’re making shit up,” said Logan. “Trying to make me tell you something new. I was in the army for three years, I know your dumb tactics. Chris isn’t like that. He’s a good man, not like you and your dumb friends. Chris, he’s the guy that stays to help clean up a city, not wreck it. Police officers, we’re the ones who keep people safe, not those masked clowns everywhere.” 

Yes, Natasha was a patient person, and it always paid off. “And how do you plan to achieve that, Mr. Y/l/n? How is a weak, pathetic man like yourself ever going to do that?” 

Natasha didn’t flinch when he fought against the restraints, trying to lunge at her. She had already known he was likely to get violent. She merely raised an eyebrow in response.

“Now listen here, bitch,” he growled. “Just because you were running with those superpowered freaks doesn’t make you any stronger than I am. And once the Thirteenth Alliance gets what they need, your little group won’t be a problem anymore. Men and women who face dangers every day won’t need to put up with the likes of you running around. Everyone will be on even footing.”

So that’s what they wanted. Natasha took her things and stood. “Someone will be down to escort you back to your cell shortly. Thank you for cooperating. I’d think about those pictures, if I were you.” Natasha nodded down to the photos of Williams and Downey that she’d left. “Might save you from trouble down the line.” She doubted it would actually, but maybe next time he’d be more honest.

The door to Fury’s office was open and Natasha strode in without knocking, shutting the door behind her. “He didn’t know the teacher, but he knows something about Williams.” 

“Do you think he knows where Williams went?” asked Fury. 

Natasha took her usual seat. “I can’t say. Maybe not exactly, but it’s possible Williams was up to more than he let on. You might be right about alien weapons, but from the sound of it they’re trying to do something else. All the statements we’ve gotten so far have pinned the thirteenth as a very anti-SHIELD, anti-enhanced group, so they must have more planned than just gaining power and control. Y/l/n made it sound like they might’ve been trying to get officers enhanced as well, though.” 

Fury nodded. “And we still have no idea what they wanted y/n for?” 

“None. Her father didn’t seem to know she’s involved.”

Fury gave Natasha a considerate look. “You’re sure  she  doesn’t know anything?”

“Are you doubting my call? I already told you, there’s no way to ask her for information without giving away something, and that would jeopardize the mission, you said so yourself. Barnes and Rogers both agree.” 

“Just making sure you haven’t pulled up anything new.” 

“You want an update,” restated Natasha. 

“It wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“Training is on hold. She broke her hand on a punching bag when she was working out by herself. Everything else is the same.” 

Fury frowned. It was small, but Natasha could see it before he slipped back into his usual stoicism. “Keep an eye out, something will come up eventually.” 

“She’s as civilian as they get,” argued Natasha. 

“Which makes her easy to play,” countered Fury. “We both know that. Until Downey admits why he wanted her, we should prepare ourselves for anything. The girl might be smart, but she wouldn’t be able to recognize what could be hiding in the shadows.” 

Natasha shook her head. “The entire team is on this, now. If something comes up, there’s no way to miss it.”

“Good.” 

Natasha stood to leave. There was nothing left to share. Except... “Barnes and Rogers want some time with Logan Y/l/n, by the way.”

“They’ll get it eventually,” said Fury. “Once we get our information.” 

“Of course,” replied Natasha. Once the soldiers got their hands on Logan, he was as good as dead. That was a fact. Natasha left her file with Fury and made her departure. She had a teenager to get back to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to use this space to explain why this chapter was posted so much later than usual: I had a killer migraine, and after staring at schoolwork all day, I couldn't spend a second more at my laptop. I'm doing a little better now, and I did manage to get this chapter edited, so that's nice :)   
> I hope I didn't keep to many people up waiting for it / worried about me. 💖💖💖 You're all amazing and I hope you're doing well!


	51. Chapter 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter gives you a piggyback ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd give y'all some more Fluff while I try to work out Petey's character more :)

“Pleeaase, I wouldn’t even touch anything.” You were just about begging Mr. Stark to let you into the lab. Currently, he was on the main floor messing around on his phone.

“You’re always touching something, ace, namely the air and the floor,” countered Mr. Stark. “Unless breaking your hand means you can fly, that last one might be wrong if you can.” 

“Okay, but I’m touching the air and floor  _ here  _ and I’m perfectly fine.” 

“The lab is different. It has chemicals.”

“But I won’t be touching them.”

Mr. Stark finally looked up. “Maybe you should have thought about lab time before beating your hands up.” 

“Come on,” you groaned. “You’ll be right there. And so will Peter. I won’t get in the way of either of you. I’ll sit at a table and read or something.” 

“You can read in the library.” 

“But-” Your mouth clicked shut.  _ But Peter’s not in the library _ , you almost said. And that wasn’t even the point, the point was that you needed to do something. “The library is... boring.” Oh goodness, all the adjectives you had at your disposal and you picked that one? You loved the library. 

There really were two reasons you wanted to be in the library, if you had to admit it to yourself. Primarily because you were restless, but also because you missed your best friend. You had learned Peter only spent nights at the tower occasionally, and usually commuted from his apartment in Queens. As a result, you weren’t really living with him… in fact, you hadn’t seen him since the day he got back. You were looking forward to lab time as a chance to do just that, but it looked like that was gone now too.

“Suck it up, ace. You’re going to have to deal with boring for a while. Go watch T.V or something,” he brushed off. Softer, almost apologetically, he added, “Visit the entertainment rooms, take a dip in the pool,  _ relax _ . It’s not like the lab is the only facility available here.” 

“No, but it’s the best one,” you muttered and went back to your room. Mr. Stark had, very generously, given you a space heater once you’d gotten the courage to ask him. You hadn’t turned it off since you’d gotten it. Now you just wished that Mr. Stark would, very generously, allow you back into the lab. 

You hated the situation you were trapped in. Sure, it wasn’t half as bad as what you’d left, but you were still stuck. Your entire life had been flipped upside down and now you didn’t even have the one thing that had been keeping you somewhat sane. It wasn’t like Mr. Stark was wrong, exactly. Injured hands were shaky hands and those would be no good when you needed precision. And that was on the better end of the spectrum - at worst, clumsiness and distraction would get something blown up. It still sucked. 

You looked around your room for something to do, your eyes landing on your bag. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad time to start on that physics packet Mr. Downey had given you. Wasn’t the deadline at the end of September? That was pretty soon. 

You pulled the thick packet from the econ notebook it’d been stashed in. The corners had folded over but it was otherwise intact. With the help of your laptop, you were working through it diligently until someone knocked at your door. You took a glance around your room. Clean enough. “Come in.”

“Uh, hi,” greeted Peter. “Mr. Stark said you might be up here. He told me about your hand; something about a fight with a punching bag.”

You held it up awkwardly. “Yeah. My hand landed wrong and it broke. It’s been boring,” you mentioned. “I don’t know what to do at this point.” 

“Well, what were you doing? Before I came in?” 

“Summer review,” you shrugged. “Some scholarship stuff. Still boring, but at least it’s busywork.” 

“I could get the cars from the lab,” offered Peter. “We could mess around with those for a little.” 

You jumped up from your seat. “Sure! We never showed them to the team,” you realized, remembering that you’d passed out last time Peter wanted to. “It’ll be fun.”

So Peter got the cars and you two chased each other around. Peter had the modern version, and you didn’t mind that. You’d upgraded the older version, which you had named Lola, while he was gone. It was now twice as fast and could fly up to two feet high. You surprised him with it by pulling up in the exact moment before he could slam his car into yours (again), causing his car to stop just short of a wall. 

“Hey, wait!” he protested, swivelling around to face you. “That’s higher than it’s supposed to go.” 

“No it’s not,” you grinned. “I upgraded it while you were gone. It can also… _ Lola, host a party _ .” At the verbal command, the lights of the car began to change colors. Peter’s mouth opened soundlessly, causing a laugh to escape from yours. “Cool, right.” 

“No fair,” he complained. “I can’t believe you named it without me. And made it better.”

“What do you mean ‘no fair?’ You were overseas for like, two weeks, I needed to do  _ something _ while you were gone.” Other than working with Mr. Stark on Iron suits while low-key bonding with him about having an awful dad. Peter didn’t need to know about that. “Besides, that one is yours, you can name it for yourself,” you reminded him, pointing to the blue car he had.

“Yeah, but you should’ve upgraded this one, too. Let me see.” He moved to grab the car and you directed it away. “Could you stop? I just want it for, like, a minute.” 

You turned the car around and made it speed under his legs and to the other side of the room. “No,” you said childishly. “It’s mine.” 

“We made it together.” 

“Yeah but  _ I _ designed it. Um, reverse engineered it, I guess, but the point is there. And upgraded it.”

“I just want to-” Peter swiped the controller from your hand. 

“Hey!” You jumped to get it from him. “Give it back.”

“When I’m done.” 

You moved in front of him to block his path, hopping once again. “Peter!” 

“Just a minute.” 

“No, I was having fun, you’re gonna try and take it apart.” You jumped up from behind him a couple of times, eventually using his shoulders as support. He was holding the car in one hand and the controller in the other. “Peter!” 

The force of your next jump caused Peter to bend over and nearly drop the car as he attempted to keep his balance. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him as your feet lifted. “Give it back,” you demanded with more laughter than malice. 

Peter hooked his arms around your legs as he stood. “Nah, I don’t think I will. Maybe I’ll just leave it here-” He lightly tossed both items in his hands onto a couch before securing his hold on you. “- and we can go on a walk.” 

You laughed as he hiked you up a little higher on his back. “I didn’t realize you were strong enough to pick me up, but okay. Let me know when you’re tired,” you commented. 

“I doubt I’ll get tired,” he answered as you rested your chin on his head. “Get tired quickly, I mean. Where do you want to go?” 

“I dunno, you’re the one who wanted to go one a walk,” you said. “What if we just like, bring the car around with us and find everyone? I drive.” 

“Fine, fine, you get the car back. Here.” He bent down to set the car on the floor and you grabbed the remote off the couch. 

Then, the two of you began your adventure. It started with Mr. Stark, who was still down in the lab. He was quick to kick you both (and the car) out, even as you protested “But I’m not even touching the floor!” 

Dr. Banner was next door and unlike Mr. Stark, he got an advanced warning via FRIDAY, considering his lab was new to the both of you. Dr. Banner was welcoming nonetheless, asking you a few questions about the car that you answered for him and Peter. He could only step away from his work for a few minutes, though, and soon you and Peter were back in the elevator. 

“You’re not tired yet?” you checked with Peter, leaning slightly so you could see his face.

“No, not really. Um, only a little,” he stammered. “Who do you want to find next?” 

“I dunno. FRIDAY, who’s all around?” 

You listened to the list as you tried to decide what to do next. Loki was on his brother’s floor; Pepper was on hers; Clint and Natasha weren't even in the tower, apparently; and Sam, Bucky, and Steve were all in the gym. You could hit three birds with one stone. Well, technically only the Falcon, with a toy car, but the point was that they were all together and you planned to take the opportunity.

“Hey, guys!” shouted Peter as you entered. 

The car zoomed in front of you both. “Hope we’re not interrupting,” you said, picking your chin up from Peter’s hair. 

“You’re… not,” said James, lying on the floor as if he’d been doing sit-ups. He probably had been, before you and Peter barged in. James looked slightly taken aback by your appearance and you bumped his leg with the car to draw his gaze away. He sat up to check it out. “Is this that project you were working on, way back in the spring?” 

“Yeah,” you said excitedly. “What do you think? Accurate? Well, wait…  _ Lola, back to work. _ ” The car returned to its usual state. “That’s probably better.” 

“Nah,” disagreed Sam, inspecting it as he planked. “The disco thing was cool.”

James moved to pick it up before looking to you for permission. “May I?”

“Yeah. You can just put your hand under, too, it’s not super hot or anything. Kid-friendly. It’ll hover over.” 

He tried it out, an impressed frown on his face. “Neat. You built this?” 

“Both of us, yeah,” said Peter. “Even though  _ she won’t give me a turn _ .” 

You squeezed a little closer, careful not to choke him. “I will,” you insisted. “Just cuz I don’t want you to dismantle it doesn’t mean I don’t plan on sharing.” You could feel Peter’s huff. “Anyways, what do you think?” 

“It looks just like Howard’s,” said James. You could see his lips turn up in that ‘almost smile’ of his. “I kinda want one, actually.”

“I can make you one,” you offered. “When Mr. Stark lets me back in the lab. I’ve basically been grounded since the punching bag thing,” you admitted sheepishly. 

James glanced from the car to your hands. “Can’t say I disagree with that, sweetheart.” 

You frowned, trying to puzzle him out. Sweetheart?

“Hey, if he gets one I want one too,” said Sam.

“Of course,” you replied. “So, is ‘sweetheart’ a demotion or an upgrade from ‘doll?’” 

James raised an eyebrow. “It’s neither, just switching it up. Why?” 

You shrugged. It wasn’t that big of a deal, it’s not like it was anything derogatory. “Just wondering.”

“Alright then,” replied James. “Do you guys want to stay and watch Steve epically lose to me in sparring?” 

“Buck,” said Steve with a charming smile. “I love you. But I’m not losing.” 

You looked between the two super soldiers. “Uh, no offense but Jamie has a  _ metal arm _ .” 

“They’re still fifty-fifty,” said Peter. “And we’re not doing anything, so sure, we can stay.” 

You counted fifteen seconds of just standing before they got into it, but when they started, they were going. Somehow, even as they blocked hits and matched each other, they were both delivering quips, barely sounding out of breath. Within the span of five minutes, Steve had James’ flesh arm behind his back. James was forced to the ground, where he admitted defeat. 

You were still on Peter’s back, which had given you an excellent vantage point of the showdown. “That was… Wow.” 

“Impressed?” asked James. He took Steve’s hand and the man pulled him up. “If you have a little more time, you can watch me whip Sam into shape.” 

“Man,” said Sam, drawing out the word loudly. “Let these kids go have fun. They’ve got better things to do than watching you beat me up.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Wilson, they’re obviously having fun here. Y/n for sure.”

Your cheeks reddened and you hid your face in Peter’s curls. Why was James picking on you? Did Peter look bored? You couldn’t really tell. Why did his hair smell so nice, anyways? “Okay, but I’ve been stuck watching TV or playing on my phone. My standards are pretty low. Also, it’s nice being tall.” 

You could feel Peter’s laugh at the last sentence, which made your own smile widen. You leaned slightly to see his face. “Are you sure you’re not tired by the way?” 

Peter nodded. “I’m good. I could probably carry you around for another ten minutes or so, if you want.” 

“Great, we can go show Pepper what we’ve been occupying ourselves with before then.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Potts has finished her lunch break and since returned to her office,” voiced FRIDAY. 

You and Peter aw’d at the same time. “We’ll have to show her later,” you said. 

“Alright, well, we’ve gotta keep training,” said Steve. “Peter, don’t forget about your session later. And y/n, avoid breaking the other hand.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Have fun,” you said as Peter said his goodbyes and turned to leave. 

“Hey, Peter,” you said as he made his way to the living room for the other car. 

He hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Thanks for cheering me up,” you said softly. 

“Yeah, of course,” he answered. “It kinda sucks when you’re not allowed to do anything, so at least we can hang out together, right?” 

“Yeah,” you agreed. He dropped you unceremoniously onto the couch, causing a small laugh to escape you. “Let's grab something to eat before we go back down, maybe Mr. Stark will be more welcoming if we bring him some food.” 

Mr. Stark was in  _ slightly _ less of a rush to get you out when you went down with the cars, a cup of coffee, and a plate of fruit that you’d put together for him. He was quick to joke about how your feet were now touching the floor of the lab and you walked back until you were standing in the doorway, both feet firmly on the tiles in the hallway. He did call you back in, though, and even told you to take a seat and relax. You, Peter, and Mr. Stark spent some time talking about different projects before they had to actually go and attend to said projects.

You waved goodbye to both of the lab’s occupants and returned to your room. The discussion you’d had in the lab had given you a few new ideas to sketch out, which you were sure would occupy you for a while. It wasn’t exactly the same as tinkering in the lab, but at least it was better than nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for last week's kind wishes, they meant so much to me <3 again, I really love y'all so much for reading and commenting on a late chapter. I'm doing much better.   
> I've also been trying to keep on top of my school work and my personal life, which haven't been bad but it's kept me Mad busy XD   
> Thank you all for being here for this amazing journey of writing 💗💗


	52. Chapter 52

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you cut your hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: This is the first chapter!   
> *Zones out for several hours*  
> In the middle of writing: Oh my God, I need to post a chapter today before I forget about it.

You were bored. Again. 

It was hard  _ not _ to be bored when you were pretty much sitting around doing nothing all day. You’d already had breakfast, lunch, and snacks; cleaned your room; re-organized your closet; worked on your physics packet; shopped online without actually buying anything; climbed all the way down (and back up) the staircase; and just finished taking a shower. 

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. Your hair was loose, causing damp spots to form on your shirt. You grabbed the end of one lock, pulling it taut. The lieutenant had rarely yanked at it, but he had insisted on you not cutting it. He was arrested though, and you seemed to be managing yourself for the most part. 

Some part of you acknowledged the idea as a little stereotypical of a teenage crisis and terribly reckless no matter your age. The rest of you was empowered by the idea of control. Besides, hair grew back. What was the worst that could happen, really? 

You walked back into your room. “Hey, FRIDAY? Any chance you know where I could find a pair of scissors?” 

“There’s a pair of office scissors in the kitchen, in the drawer at the very edge.”

Well, you weren’t going to be picky. You walked out into the empty kitchen to grab them and made a hasty retreat to your room after doubling back for a large garbage bag. The idea of no resistance was exhilarating. There was nothing, no one, holding you back. Thankfully, though, you weren’t going to let your impulsivity get the absolute best of you, so you spent the better part of an hour watching different videos on how to cut your own hair. 

Elastics? Check. Brush? Check. Comb? Check. Scissors? Trash bag? Check. Your hair was still damp, but you paid that small detail no mind. Some videos had suggested not cutting hair until it was totally dry, and others said it should be wet, so you figured no matter your choice you’d be ok. You also ignored the fact that you were using office scissors- a terrible idea by all accounts.

You began by sectioning your hair into several parts, making sure that the hair at the back wasn’t pulled to the front before using a second mirror to check if the elastics in the back were even. You’d be cutting several inches off, until it was right above your shoulders. A part of it was scary, but you were also a bit thrilled. You took a single deep breath before beginning with the first part in the front. Holding the scissors while wearing a splint was difficult, so you switched to your other hand.

You inhaled sharply at the sound the scissors made. Some hair fell to the trash bag and tickled your feet. You were actually doing this. You kept on snipping until the first section was complete before moving to the one behind it and continuing around until the desired amount was gone. 

You released the elastics nervously. 

Your hair was short. Really short. And light. Now for the moment of truth. You turned around with a mirror in hand. It was almost totally even. You must’ve had the best luck in the world, even if you had paid really good attention before you began. 

It was impossible to contain your excited laughter and loudly whispered “I can’t believe it”s as you ran your hand through your hair. Now to show off your new look. You could only imagine how the team would react. 

You grabbed your cell phone and faced the mirror, starting the recording. “FRIDAY, you better not ruin this. I want to get everyone’s reactions to my new haircut, okay?” 

“I won’t say a word, Miss.” 

“Okay, now I’ve gotta go find people.” You said it mostly for the recording rather than for yourself. 

The first person was puttering away in the kitchen. Clint, making something to eat. “Hey, Clint.” 

“Hey, k-” He doubled back with wide eyes. “Woah.” 

“Whaddaya think?” you asked, words mashing together as you spoke. You ran a hand through again, still trying to get used to it. “Come on, be honest.”

“It’s... different,” he said. 

“Good different or bad different?” 

“Good, definitely good, I mean… wow. When?” 

“Like ten minutes ago. By myself,” you low key bragged. 

“Really?” 

A small giggle escaped you as you nodded. “Where’s Natasha?” 

“She’s out right now.” 

Well, that kind of sucked, but you didn’t let it put a damper on your mood. “Okay. I’m going to go show everyone else. Bye, Clint.” 

“See ya, kid.” 

The next place you visited was the lab. 

“Mr. Stark. Peter. Good to see you both,” you greeted cordially. “I wasn’t expecting you down here, Peter, when’d you get to the tower?”

Mr. Stark was still working, but Peter had looked up, mouth wide. 

Mr. Stark had no hesitation when saying “Ace, I know I let up and said you can come in here but you better not touch anything until that splint is off.”

Peter meanwhile, was still having difficulty finding words as you responded with “I know, I know. I just came to say hi.” 

“Holy Guacamole,” Peter finally uttered. “It’s short.” 

That got Mr. Stark to look up to Peter, following the younger man’s gaze to you. 

“As you can see, I’m not touching anything.”

Mr. Stark grinned. “Yeah. New haircut.” 

You nodded, enjoying the movement as your hair bounced. “I did it myself. What do you think? Did I ace it?” 

“Definitely, it looks great. Now get out of my lab.”

“In a minute.” You turned the camera back to Peter. “Thoughts, Peter?” 

“It’s... cute. Really cute. Can I- Can I just, like, play with your hair for a second?” 

“That’s an odd request,” you said, blushing deeply. Peter had just called you cute. But also, that was a really odd request. “But okay, I guess.” Peter walked up to you and you tried to angle the camera so he was kept in view as he fluffed your hair. He looked so amazed that you couldn’t help but smile more. “So?” 

“It’s nice. Your hair is so soft.” 

“It’s because of the conditioner Mrs. Potts bought for me,” you informed him honestly. “It’s a wonder.”

“I like it,” he said softly. “You- you look good.” 

You thought back to the first time Peter had stuttered a compliment about your looks, back when he was in his pajamas and you were in your nice dress. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.” 

He nodded, withdrawing his hands to point back to his station. “I- I should get back to work.” You watched him blush as Mr. Stark snickered. 

“Uh-huh. I’m going to go surprise everyone else,” you said. “Bye, guys.” 

Who else to surprise? Steve and James, and Sam. Dr. Banner you didn’t really know that well. Loki on the other hand… You’d begun to know him better, especially since you’d been around the library much more frequently. 

You hadn’t really talked to him until you found a small bundle of flowers in your usual seat, with a note neatly detailing their meanings. While you had no idea where Loki had gotten flowers, you appreciated the apology and had placed them in a tall glass of water that was now sitting on your desk. After that, you had exchanged book recommendations and small talk and moved on.

“Hey FRIDAY, where’s Loki?” 

“The roof, Miss. Would you like me to take you up?” 

“Yes.” 

You’d never gone to the roof before. The elevator opened to a stairway that you went up quickly. “Woah, talk about gorgeous,” you voiced as you exited, video still on. Loki was standing behind the rail on the far edge. 

“Loki?” 

He spun around quickly. 

“What the hell? It’s just me,” you said, eying the small knives in his hand. “With a new haircut. Where the hell did you get a knife?”

“Pocket dimension.” They vanished into thin air.

“Pocket- You know what? I’m probably better off not knowing. What do you think of my hair?” 

He eyed you. “Why?” 

“Because I want to know what you think. I just cut it.” 

“It’s… certainly different. Why so short?” 

“Because I wanted it to be.” Loki was affronted by the statement and you realized you’d have to explain, so you paused the video. “My father never let me have short hair. It wasn’t girly enough for him. So I cut it, just because I could.” 

“In Asgard, long hair is seen as a symbol of strength,” he informed you. “But it is your hair to do with which you please. Have you been trying to catch everyone off guard?” 

“Yeah, sort of. Why, can you tell I’ve been more mischievous than usual?” you teased. 

“In a way, yes.” He turned back to observing the world below him. 

You smiled, enjoying the wind pushing your hair away from your face as you looked out towards the city. “It’s nice up here.” 

“Perhaps you could accompany me more often.” 

“Perhaps I will,” you replied. 

“Ah, wait, look at that man. With the donut box, there.” He pointed to the man he was speaking of. “Walking. Do you see him?”

You frowned towards the street. From that high up? “No.”

He manifested a pair of binoculars and you took a cautious look at them. “It’s just a pair of binoculars, now take it.”

“Okay… Guy with a donut box. Found him.” The man tripped, sending his box onto the sidewalk. The god beside you started laughing. You gasped with realization. “Loki! That’s so mean.” 

“Oh, calm down. It’s just a box of donuts. He can buy another.” 

“What if he can’t? What if those were a gift?”

“Well then, that’d be a shame.” The empathy was off-set by his continued laughter. 

“You enjoy this so much, don’t you?” You turned to glance at the man again, who was now tossing the box, and snickered just a little at his misfortune.

“There you are! You do think it’s funny.” 

“A little.  _ Only  _ a little. It was mean, but if there’s no harm done, it’s funny,” you admitted as he took the proffered binoculars from you. They disappeared, likely back into the pocket dimension he had mentioned earlier. “I’m going to go see what everyone else thinks of my haircut.” 

You waved goodbye and took the stairs back down as Loki returned to his gazing. 

According to FRIDAY, Sam, Steve, and James were all in the gym, which wasn’t unusual given their schedules and careers. 

Video resumed, you poked a head out to find the trio on the mats, doing push ups. Sam was completing his rep at a significantly slower pace than the other two, and James was doing his single handedly. 

You zoomed in, comparing the two. “What a show off,” you muttered as the camera focused on James, before moving it over. “Poor Sam.” You zoomed back out to have the three of them in the frame again.

“Hey guys, how’s it going? Sam, you holding up over there?” 

James snicked and glanced up. His arm gave out when he caught sight of you, though, causing him to lay on his stomach, resting on his forearm. Steve and Sam both stopped, looking to James before seeing you. 

“What the hell?” said James. 

“What, you don’t like it?” 

“Just surprised,” he said quickly. “Who cut it? When?” 

“I did. About fifteen minutes ago.” 

All three blinked in surprise. 

“Well, you look great,” said James. 

Sam snorted. “Of course you would say that. Not that it doesn’t look good, but I see the resemblance. What, was he your inspiration?” 

“Haha. No, I just wanted my hair short. You’re right though, it’s pretty similar in length.” You combed your fingers through your hair again, the ends still unexpected when you met them. “Sorry for interrupting your workout, I just thought I’d have some fun showing off. I can’t wait until Natasha gets back, she’s the only person I still need to see the reaction of.” 

As if on cue, the elevator opened. 

It was indeed Natasha. “New style, huh? Not bad. You could probably go shorter, if you want.” 

You grinned. Of course she’d say that, no questions asked. “Thanks, but I think this is good.” 

“We should get Pepper’s hair stylist to fix the edges a little.” 

You shrugged. She had a point there. “I mean, yeah. Probably.” You stopped the recording. “You’re the only one who wasn’t surprised, did Clint tell you about it?” 

“No. People get haircuts, it’s not unusual.” She said it as if it was totally ridiculous that anyone would be surprised. “It’s not a bad look either.” 

The compliment put a bright smile back onto your face. “Thanks. I’ll let you guys get to whatever you need to do, I’m going to go hang out in my room. See you all later!” 

As mentioned, you returned to your room. You found the screen recording button and set it on before video calling MJ. The two of you had kept in touch, but obviously hadn’t seen each other. You promised you’d get her coffee when you had the chance to. 

MJ, much like Natasha, wasn’t overly surprised. She congratulated you on the new style before teasing you about Peter, and you reluctantly informed her of his reaction as you stopped the recording. MJ used it as proof that he liked you, but you simply pretended not to be listening until she stopped, and the two of you finally spent some conversation time catching up on each other's lives. 

The discussion with MJ, who was undoubtedly your best friend (second only to Peter), finally put your mind and body to ease. Your anxiety melted away and for an hour or so, you could pretend everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter stopped being a whiny IDIOT and finally cooperated for something that isn't out of character in like 10 chapters from now. Well, not too far out of character. Two ideas that I've been trying to line up actually lined up, though. :D I was like "Ah, look at that!" 
> 
> Also: It'll never stop being weird that I'm like 20 chapters ahead. Like, I come back here and I'm like "Oh God, they have no idea what's coming..." And I'm still so far from being done... There's going to be too many chapters in this fic, just to let y'all know that. Too many.


	53. Chapter 53

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you get invited to Norway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOUBLE UPDATE WARNING: This is the Second chapter   
> (wow I almost forgot I had enough chapters written to POST a second chapter lol)

“Have you ever been to Norway?” The question broke the heavy silence of the library, eliciting a jump from you. “My apologies for startling you.” 

You shook your head and turned back to the book. “I don’t even have a passport.” 

“That hasn’t stopped anyone else here,” said Loki, taking the seat across from you. “It’s not like they follow all your midgardian travel rules.” 

“I’m not exactly like anyone else here,” you commented, turning the page. “What you see is what you get. No suits, no enhancements, no special skills. Just me.”

“Well, do you want to go to Norway?” he asked. 

“If you plan on whisking me away, I’m pretty sure the Avengers would highly disagree.” 

“I’m not sure they’d disagree as much as you believe they would. Didn’t you mention the other day that you were feeling trapped? Think of this as a weekend outing. It’ll be fun.”

You had mentioned your feelings to Loki the day before, during another late night library visit. Ever since Mr. Stark had bought a heater for you, your nightmares had shifted into a new focus. They were slowly lessening, but they had disrupted your sleep nonetheless. Loki had still been up reading, and he was a surprisingly good listener. He offered you his sympathy and exchanged some of his own experiences with you. “Why do you even want me to go to Norway?” 

“Because I’m going to Norway. You can meet my brother and see how New Asgard is developing.” 

You continued to listen with half an ear. “Mhm, and why do you want me to meet Thor?” 

“I didn’t say that, I merely mentioned that you would. He seems to be highly… regarded amongst many midgardians.” 

Well, that was one way of saying it. You were sure the majority of ladies would jump at a chance to meet Asgardian royalty. You, on the other hand, simply wanted to leave the tower. A simple wish, no pomp and circumstance. Deep down, though, you knew that meeting Thor would be  _ so cool. _ “Who else is going?” 

“Let’s see, last time it was Dr. Banner, the captain, Stark, and his apprentice.” 

“Apprentice? Oh, Peter,” you realized. “Huh. I didn’t know Peter went to Norway.” 

“Well, you seemed to have been occupied with your own… challenges, recently. Perhaps it’d be nice to have a break away from all this.” You flipped to the next page absently. “What more can I say to convince you?” 

“What am I going to be doing while I’m there?” you asked, setting your book down. You had reached a good place to stop. “And I really doubt anyone would be happy with me going.” 

He mumbled something you couldn’t hear, and he begrudgingly spoke louder at your request, pink tinting his cheeks. “I’d be happy.” 

You sighed and tapped the book in your hands against your knee. You couldn’t believe you were actually willing to consider it... “When?” 

“Tomorrow.” 

“Do you realize it’s terribly rude to invite someone to a new country the day before?” 

“To be fair, it was a rather last minute decision. Thor would be delighted to meet you, we’d make sure you’re safe, and you’d get time outside of this dreadful place.” He paused to allow you to consider before mentioning “You can see the stars very clearly from there.” 

You pursed your lips. That was a very convincing argument. “The choice to go isn’t mine to make.” 

And you had been right. Upon making your request to Steve, you’d been shot down almost instantly as he wondered how you even found out about the trip. You mentioned how you’d made friends with Loki and got a long warning in return. So, as you waved them off the next day, you quietly requested Loki bring you back something. He promised he would with a rueful smile. 

That promise had only been half fulfilled, in your mind. The team had returned without Loki, having deemed the developing city well enough off that he could stay. Dr. Banner had caught your eye before the team dispersed. You watched as he slipped an envelope between the cushions of a couch before casually mentioning that he had work that needed to be done. 

You took the envelope before anyone could find it and moved to your room. 

There was a heavy weight that you discovered to be an octagonal locket, accompanied by a letter. 

_ Lady y/n,  _

_ I did promise I’d get you something from Asgard, but I hadn’t promised to deliver it myself. While I’m sorrowful that we could not talk more, I’m sure there will be plenty of time in the future. Perhaps when you get one of those midgardian passports you could come visit New Asgard. While I will not detail how he said it exactly, Thor would also be glad to have you around.  _

_ You’ll notice I’ve included a locket. I do hope you read this before opening it, at least. Wait until dusk, I believe you’ll find it rather entertaining. If you have the patience to, I’d save it for a night like the one on the balcony, the first time I apologized.  _

_ I do hope to hear from you soon. I’m considering getting a cell phone, now that I have the liberty to. It’d certainly make better communication than letters.  _

_ Best regards,  _

_ L  _

_ P.S. I’d like to include my sincerest apologies as well, considering you still haven’t forgiven me. Perhaps your new locket may change your mind.  _

You set the letter down and took another look at his gift, wondering what might be so special about it and why he’d want you to save it for a restless night. It didn’t matter, though, since almost every night was restless. It was attached to some sort of rope and was reasonably well sized for a bracelet. You pulled it around your wrist and tightened it until it was snug. 

* * *

When you woke up that night, the locket was far from the first thing on your mind. You caught your breath, checked to see the door was locked, and reminded yourself that you were safe. 

You were browsing the library shelves when the glint had drawn your attention. 

You pulled it off and cautiously opened it near the couches where you and Loki frequently sat. 

It projected a bright light that blinded you as your eyes adjusted. A gasp left you when you finally glanced up. Thousands of stars shone within the library as you held the locket in your hands. “Oh, Loki, you are definitely forgiven,” you breathed as the locket warmed your fingers. It was a slight feeling, not uncomfortable, but certainly noticeable. It hardly took a place in your mind as you stared in awe.

After a few moments of staring in wonder, you heard “I take it you like it, then?”

You turned towards the voice. “Loki? But I thought you were-” 

“I’m not actually here,” he clarified. His hand passed through a shelf to demonstrate. “This is just a bit of magic.” 

You glanced between him and the locket. “Are you going to come around every time I open this?” 

“No. In fact, it’s not even my own magic I’m using right now, really,” he told you. “It's a pure chance that you called me. You see, the locket is part of a pair.” He held out a gold necklace looped around his neck to show you, before pulling it back towards himself. “It was commonly used by explorers and their beloved. You simply say the name of the other person while holding the charm, and the other will heat up.” 

You looked from him to the charm. “I’m guessing this has better service than a cell phone,” you smiled. “And it’s certainly faster than a letter.” 

He smirked. “At the expense of only being able to call one person. I bought it off an old sailor who had no more use for it.” 

“Asgard had sailors?”

“Asgard had everything,” he replied with a chuckle. “That one is typically used on stormy nights, so people wouldn’t get set too far off course. I’d recommend keeping it on, by the way. There are a few charms you might find helpful.” 

“Like what?” you wondered, suddenly more interested in the locket than the image it projected. The locket itself was empty but for the light shining from it, illuminating the image above you

“Well, lots of things,” he began. “There’s one for stability and balance; a standard on most sailors’ items, as you’d imagine.” 

You could certainly see how those would be helpful, particularly on a stormy night with a rocky boat. Or as a drunken sailor.

“There’s a couple others to keep you comfortable; a cooling spell for warm nights and warming spell for cool nights.” 

“Like the one you wanted to demonstrate,” you mentioned, wondering if that had been why he had mentioned the balcony in his letter, or if it was just because of the stars. 

“Close enough to it, yes. I wouldn’t depend on them too heavily, I could only renew one spell while I was restrained, and I felt the communication spell was more important. I’ll renew the others if you ever come visit. What else is there?” he asked himself. “There’s a charm for good luck.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “That exists?” You were holding a literal good luck charm. 

“Only in the most basic terms,” he warned. “Don’t get too excited. Good luck charms are fickle things and the best ones wear off within a day. Others, more long term ones, like yours, fade the more you use them. From what I could tell, it’s more like that would… increase your chances of finding money on the ground or… making a good guess at something. Like I said, though, it’s an old charm that needs renewing.”

“Okay,” you said. You glanced down at the jewelry. Maybe you’d save it for a rainy day or something. Or maybe, when he renewed it, you’d buy a lottery ticket. “Does this ever tarnish? How do I take care of it?” 

“I was getting there,” he smiled. “But no, there’s a spell against that, too, and another to repel dirt. Most adventurers have better things to do than polish their jewelry.” 

“I guess they would,” you realized. “This is amazing.” 

“I had hoped you would think so. Does that mean I’m forgiven?” 

“You were forgiven before you even told me about all the extra magic,” you told him. “This is beyond impressive, Loki. Thank you.” 

“I do keep to my word some of the time,” he joked. “As you mentioned before I left, though, I do have some princely duties to attend to and the day is just beginning here. One last note, contact with each other ends as soon as one of us lets go of the charm.” 

“Oh. But the stars?” You glanced up. “Will those go?” 

“No, those will stay as long as the locket is open. You can set it on a table if you’d like, but I just wanted to let you know. And the only way for us to contact each other is if both of us are wearing the charms. The other one won’t heat up unless it’s being worn or held.” 

“So if I’m busy, I’ll have to take it off?” you questioned. 

“Not quite. Like I mentioned, one of us has to let go of the charm for the call to end. A simple tap of the charm will do fine if you don’t want to answer.” 

You nodded along. “Well then, until next time, I suppose. I hope you have a good day, Loki.” 

“Same to you, Lady y/n. Until next time.” You saw him let go and his image shimmered away. 

Once again alone, you found yourself enraptured by the stars from the locket. To avoid having to crane your neck, you settled back on a couch to observe. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you could feel your eyes growing tired once more and shut the locket, scared that someone might find out about it if you fell asleep with it open. You pulled the bracelet back on, tightened it, and went to bed thinking of the constellations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Savor the Loki chapter, my friends, because I'm not sure you'll be getting more anytime soon.


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which that's definitely not a beer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like half edited.

Summer was coming to an end, your splint was off, and you had free range of the tower. You couldn’t be happier. Well, you could be, but that was why you were in front of Natasha as she had lunch.

“Natasha, you know how I’m allowed to go back to school?” 

She looked up expectantly. “Yeah. I have a question for you about that.” 

“Oh.” That wasn’t a part of the plan. “What’s up?” 

“There are four emergency contact spaces. I’m already first, Pepper is last. Who do you want for two and three?” 

You’d never thought about that. You didn’t know who your previous emergency contacts had been, you were pretty sure it had just been your father. If Natasha was first, it seemed like you were pretty well set already.

“I could choose for you,” she supplied. 

“You’d probably make a better choice than me,” you answered honestly. “I’ve never had the school call anyone, anyways.” 

“I wouldn't expect them to have. Your record is almost squeaky clean. Sam and Steve. Sound alright?” 

Sam. He used to be your emergency contact when you were a kid. “Sounds fine, I guess. Why not Jamie?” 

She raised a well-manicured eyebrow at you. “So you do have a preference.” 

Did you? You did spend a lot more time around James, but that just because you had gotten close to him. You were even reconsidering his offer to take the spare in his apartment. “I don’t know, maybe, but there’s a Captain America PSA on timeliness during passing periods. I’m not sure how many kids would fall for the cap and glasses schtick when he’s on the monitor right in front of them.”

Natasha smirked. “Good catch. You think Barnes would get past easily?” 

You were pretty confident he would, so you nodded. “Just fake his last name or something; I’m pretty sure no one would notice.” 

“Alright, myshka.” You blushed at the diminutive. Little mouse, because you’d holed yourself up in your bedroom for most of your time at the tower. “What’d you want?” 

You almost forgot. “Can I go back-to-school shopping?” 

“When?”

“Tomorrow maybe?” you suggested hopefully. 

“No.” 

Your mouth formed a shocked (and slightly angry) ‘o.’ “Why not?” 

“Because I have plans tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that.” 

And the one after that was the first day of school. “I can go by myself.” 

“Mm-mn,” she sounded, waving her fork around to say no as she ate. “Absolutely not. At least two people need to go with you. In case you forgot, you’re here to hide from a terrorist organization.” 

The whole terrorist organization fear really dulled down in the month since it started. That was probably the reason Natasha didn’t want you leaving the Tower alone, you were bound to do something stupid like not take a terrorist seriously. Then again, Tony Stark had done that once already… But you were no Tony Stark. 

“It’s not like they’re even-”  _ looking for me, _ you were countering, when you came across a realization. “Wait…” You had shown up at the tower to hide from the lieutenant. Everything after that had been so chaotic you hadn’t really processed that you were hiding from a terrorist organization  _ after  _ he had been arrested. You narrowed your eyes at Natasha. “Remind me why I’m hiding again? What is it they want from me?” 

“Information,” replied Natasha. “That you probably don’t have.” 

You frowned. How fun was that? “Hmn. So you’re saying no.” 

“I’m saying find two people and ask again.” 

“Find two people for what?” James entered the kitchen with his water bottle and stood near the fridge. 

“Jamie,” you said sweetly. “Perfect timing.”

You barely made out his mumbled “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Would you and Steve go back-to-school shopping with me?” 

“Depends, what do you wanna get?” 

“Pens, pencils, markers, notebooks. Stuff like that.”  _ A coffee mug and travel cup. _

James looked to Natasha in an exchange you didn’t completely understand and then they held a russian conversation that you completely didn’t understand. It ended in your favor, though. “Steve’s been wanting some more paint recently, anyways. I’ll go grab him from the studio, you go change.” 

“Really?”

“Be quick,” James shot back. 

You looked at Natasha. “What are you standing around for?” she asked. “You heard him.”

You took that as your cue to change out of your loungewear and into some street clothes. You skipped the makeup but took a minute to tame your hair, pulling the top half back into a ponytail. You grabbed your wallet from where it had lied untouched for the past month, and then you were set to go. 

“That was faster than I expected,” said James when you returned to the kitchen. 

You beamed with excitement. “Yeah, well, we’re not going out for anything special. Just some school supplies, right? And paint?” 

Steve nodded. “There’s a place about five blocks from here that I know pretty well. Did you have anywhere special you wanted to go?”

You shook your head, practically bouncing with excitement. “Just out. Maybe an office supplies store, but an art store will probably have a lot of the same stuff.” 

“Art store first then,” decided Steve. 

The first thing you did when you got outside was yank your sweater off before you could melt. It ended up around your waist, and you basked the warmth of sunshine on your bare arms. You were wearing a short sleeve shirt outside for the first time in years. The sensation was unlike anything else. 

“Why’d you even bring a sweater?” asked James. 

“‘Cause the tower is cold,” you said, trying to get used to the feeling of a missing layer. It didn’t take long to be comfortable, but it was a somewhat unfamiliar sensation. “It’s just a habit to grab a sweater when I leave my room.” 

“So move in with us,” said Steve. “I know living with two centennials might not sound like fun, but it’s bound to be more comfortable, temperature-wise.” 

It was the first time Steve had suggested it. James was usually the one to bring it up. “I’m honestly considering it.” 

"Oh, so you’re  _ honestly  _ considering it when Steve brings it up? Were you dishonestly considering it before?” 

You rolled your eyes at James’ antics. “I was considering it when you tried talking me into it too,” you clarified. “I was, really. Being cold is getting exhausting.” 

James glanced down at you for a second, moving to your other side as Steve (who was leading the way) turned a corner. “You’re getting sleep, right?”

“Yes, Jamie, I’m getting sleep,” you answered as he slung his arm around you. You fought the urge to shrug it off. “Probably too much, considering I had nothing better to do until my hand healed.” 

“Good thing that you’re starting school then,” said Steve. 

You nodded quickly. You began to list all the classes you were excited for, from the second advanced physics class to the final class in the mechanics sequence to being a T.A for the baking class. 

“Well, you sound like you’re going to be busy,” said James. He squeezed you closer to him for a split second. “ _ Don’t leave Steve’s side _ ,” he ordered quietly. He removed his arm and patted his pockets for a second. “You know what? I just realized I left my wallet at home. I’ll meet you guys back at the shop.” 

Steve paused for a second. “Yeah, sure,” he said, a smile on his face. “You have your keys, right?” 

“Of course I do. I’ll see you guys in a bit.” James gave you one last smile that didn’t quite match up with the ones you were used to. 

Even though you were now well aware something was wrong, you gave him your best smile back before he turned around to walk the other way. 

With James gone doing who-knows-what, you began to pay more attention to your surroundings, which you probably should’ve been doing this whole time. No wonder Natasha wouldn’t let you go alone. Something like this was bound to happen, she must’ve known. 

You continued to chatter on like nothing was amiss, sticking close to Steve the whole way. You didn’t see anything that could be suspicious, but then again you had half a mind dedicated to not turning around to see if you were being followed. Steve seemed comfortable continuing his walk, but there was once that he made you take a lap around a couple of blocks instead of just going the way you had been. You didn’t ask any questions. The charade continued even as you took note of things, but you didn’t mention any of it until after you entered the store.

Steve greeted the shop owner with a kind “Good afternoon,” as the bell of the door jingled. You accompanied him to the paints section, taking in the different brands and colors. 

“Please don’t tell me that’s the brand you normally get,” you said as he picked up a small tube of oil paint. 

“It is, why?” 

You shook your head moving further down the aisle. “I cannot believe you’d buy that.” 

He barely hid his shock. “I’m sorry, what was that?” 

You picked up a bright red from your favorite professional brand. “This is the good stuff.” It’s natural ingredients made for more expensive costs, but your mom had praised its smooth texture and vibrant pigments. Having grown up with the brand, and a few others like it, you didn’t really understand. Then you tried to buy a more cost-friendly paint and understood immediately. High price, but worth it. 

Steve looked from you to the paints. “You paint?” 

“Not usually, and definitely not with oils. I used to, a few years back. When I was younger, I had tempera and watercolor, but my mom loved oils. I’m mostly into drawing. I’ve gotten these for years though, and they’re amazing. I know it’s expensive, but just trust me on this.” 

Steve picked out some colors and placed them in a basket he had picked up. You glanced out the window as you passed it on your way to the canvasses with Steve. He walked further down the aisle, but you stayed in front of the sketchbooks. You kept your head down but directed your attention to the building across from you. The guy in the balcony was still there, and that definitely wasn’t a beer in his hand. 

You picked up a sketchbook, inspecting the quality. “Hey, Steve, would you ever consider moving to an apartment across from here?” 

“It’s never come to mind, no.” 

“Hm, that’s a shame. There’s just a guy in the building across from us who looks like he’s enjoying the view from his balcony. Don’t look too quickly; five up, three from the right.” 

Steve carefully set his canvas down and walked closer to you, before walking straight past. He took the sketchbook from your hand and replaced it with one closer to him. “These ones are better.” His hand pressed against the small of your back, signalling for you to move forward. “How long did you know he was there?” he hissed at you once you were away from the window.

“He’s been there since before we came in.” You grabbed a few lined notebooks in different colors as you passed them. 

“And you waited until now to say something?”

“I didn’t want to sound like an idiot,” you justified. “I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t me seeing things. I’m sorry.” 

“We’re both damn lucky that he didn’t shoot while we were standing there.” 

You pursed your lips and stopped in front of the pencils, looking for a new set. “Okay, so I ended up looking like an idiot instead of sounding like one. Got it. And to be fair, I’m not the one whose favorite art shop this is,” you sniped defensively. 

Steve pulled out his phone and shook his head. “Don’t go near the windows until Bucky gets here. And stay by my side, damn it.” 

_ Huh. So he does swear.  _ You respected the order, pondering his words. “What’s he doing, anyways?”

“Right now? His job.” 

Even though the short answer was ominous, you pushed for an elaboration. You were tired of being in the dark. “Which entails what, exactly?” 

“Whatever he needs to do to make sure everyone comes out of this safely.” You caught the slightest bit of tightness in his voice. Steve glanced down to his phone. “He says he’ll be here to pick us up in thirty, so we should probably hurry up a little.” 

You froze at that. Pick up. As in… in a car, probably, what other way was there to transport three people? You took a slow breath. That wasn’t a fear you were willing to face today. Even if you were, you knew it’d get the best of you. It always did. Thirty minutes. You had thirty minutes or less to prepare yourself. Unless you could convince them otherwise. “That… That’s not a good idea,” you managed to voice. 

“And why not?” Steve practically growled. 

Now you really looked like an idiot. You were, though, it was a stupid fear. “I’m not really good with cars.” Not riding in them, at least. Fixing them wasn’t too bad.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Listen, I know that you don’t like them, but now’s not the time-” 

“No, Steve,” you insisted, trying to quell the panic threatening to close your throat up as you flexed your hands. “I can’t get in cars. I actually can’t.” You looked around the art store. Steve turned to you, finally. “This is a really, really awful place, and timing, and phrasing, but I- I was in a car crash as a kid and I haven’t been able to sit in cars since.” The humility of such a fear made you turn back to the pencils. “I’m sorry. I know it’s to keep everyone safe, but I can’t. It’d probably look like you were kidnapping me if you made me try.” 

Tears stung your eyes, and your shallow breathing was beginning to make you light headed.  _ Not the time for this. _ You were perfectly fine with the idea of getting shot at or followed literally five minutes ago, but you were falling apart at the idea of being in a car? It was stupid. So stupid. But crying over it would just make you look stupider.

Steve was on his phone again and you were quietly panicking, not sure what he might type. “How do you feel about motorcycles?” 

“Never been on one,” you told him, “but I guess I’m willing to try.” 

“Change of plans, then. You’ll be riding with Bucky, Sam will come pick me up after.” 

You’d be on a motorcycle. Totally new experience. “Okay. No cars?” 

Steve shook his head. “Not for you.” 

You released a breath of relief. “Okay. No cars. Good.” You’d be fine. 

Steve rested a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged it off instantly. “You okay?” 

You nodded. “I’ll be fine. I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s… it’s not ideal, but it happens. Why don’t we keep looking around, hm?” 

It was oddly uneventful after that. Steve mentioned what it’s like to be a passenger with James and what you should and shouldn’t do while on a motorcycle. You and Steve shopped, and Steve insisted on paying for your school things when the time came for you to leave. You put up token resistance, but he was absolutely refusing to take your money. He’d be taking things back with him so that James wouldn’t have to deal with it, anyways. 

James came into the store, gave Steve a quick kiss, and showed you how to put on the helmet he’d brought, making sure it fit properly before basically quizzing you on the information Steve had shared. You were out of the store quickly, with Steve promising he’ll see you both soon. The guy in the balcony was gone. James pointed at a few specific parts of the bike and concisely explained how to get on, making sure you understood. Then, James slid onto his bike and you sat behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso. 

It was an entirely different feeling from being in a car. You could feel the bike purr under you and the wind blowing around you. You knew James was taking the brunt of it, and for that you were grateful. Riding on a motorcycle was vaguely like riding a faster, much more dangerous version of your bicycle. The biggest difference, though, was the lean when James turned. It was a notable change from being in a car, one that caused you to press a little tighter to him, but it wasn’t completely horrible. 

Soon, you were in the garage of the tower. James helped you off his bike. 

“Are you alright?” he asked as you undid the helmet strap.

You nodded, pulling the helmet off and handing it to him. “Thanks for that.” 

James put it away where it belonged, and you made a mental note of the spot. “I wouldn’t let you ride without a helmet, doll.” 

“That wasn’t what I meant,” you replied abashedly. “Thanks for the ride. I really hate cars.” 

“Steve mentioned. Car crash.” 

You nodded. You turned towards the door of the garage, taking in all the pricey vehicles around you. If you’d known Stark was hiding them, you might’ve come down much sooner. Then again, some of the cars probably cost as much as a small house, it was unlikely he would let you take them apart.

James walked besides you. “How long ago?” he asked softly. 

“Almost seven years.” He was silent for a little while. “It’s really dumb, I know,” you tagged on. 

“I don’t think it’s dumb. Some things don’t go away. Steve and I can’t stand the cold, I don’t think that’s ever going away. I’d never hold something like that against someone when I’m struggling with the same.” 

Back to the cold. “It’s the same reason I can’t stand the cold, actually. I always hated it as a kid, like a little kid, and then after the crash I kept my room hot enough to nearly make me sweat. Must’ve made the energy bills skyrocket until I turned it back down.” 

“The offer for our spare room is still up,” James mentioned as you stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button for his floor.

You pressed the button for the main floor as you spoke. “Thanks. I think I’m going to spend some time in my own room for now, though.” 

“Okay. Did you enjoy the ride?” 

You nodded, watching the numbers go up on the elevator display. 

“Think you’d ever go again? For fun.” 

You considered the question. It wasn’t like it  _ wasn’t  _ fun the first time, but it was pretty serious considering what was going on. “Maybe,” you replied. “I’m not opposed to it, that’s for sure.” 

You caught him smiling from the corner of your eye. 

“Could you tell Steve to drop my stuff off in front of my room?” you requested as the doors open. 

“Yeah. Wait.” He took a hold of your hand as you exited, effectively stopping you. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine. I promise I’m not going to break my hand again or anything like that.” You lightly tugged your hand from his grasp, offering him a small smile. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll be up in my apartment if you want to talk.” 

You nodded and left for your room, glancing back to watch the elevator doors shut. 

When you got to your room, you crawled onto your bed and grabbed a pillow to scream into. The same stupid fear kept getting the best of you. It wasn’t like you  _ hadn’t  _ tried to get into a car before. A sick feeling wrapped around you as you thought more about it, and about your father’s anger over it. But the nightmares didn’t hold a candle to the flashbacks, and just thinking about them had you curling up tighter. You swiped at the wetness on your face. 

It seemed Steve wasn’t as far behind you as you had originally thought, because barely ten minutes later he was outside your door. “Tell him to leave the stuff outside my door,” you told FRIDAY. 

“He’s not leaving, Miss. He wishes to speak with you.”

Of course he did. Probably to scold you some more. You collected yourself and went out a few minutes later. 

Steve was standing near Peter’s door, his back against the wall. “You’ve been crying,” he noted. He held out the bag of supplies. 

The plastic rustled as you took it from him. “Yeah.” 

“Mind if I come in?” 

You shuffled back, holding the door open wider. 

“What’s up?” you asked as you sat cross legged on the bed. 

“I should be asking you that,” he said. “We probably should’ve looped you in to what might happen beforehand.” 

“I already realized there was a chance of it happening,” you said. “When Nat said no, before she said I needed to find two other people to go out with, I had an idea of why. And I got the gist that something was up when Jamie said he’d forgotten his wallet and you asked about his keys.”

Steve looked impressed. “Someone was following us, he went back to stop them. You were paying a lot more attention than I thought you were.” 

“Are we talking about the wallet-keys thing or the possible-gunman-on-the-balcony thing?” 

“Both, actually.” Steve took a seat beside you. His hands were folded in front of him, and his elbows rested on his knees. “You’re not trained for situations like these, and you responded remarkably well for the position you were in.” 

You huffed. “If we forget about stupid fear of cars.” 

“Is that what you’re upset about?” 

You made a gesture with your head that was neither yes nor no, but more along the lines of ‘sort of.’ It was certainly a part of why you were upset. The rest of it was the actual reason why you couldn’t get into cars. “There’s a lot to it. I’m not really up for talking, though.” 

You didn’t explain. He didn’t ask about it. “Do you want some ice cream?” 

Your brows furrowed in confusion. That was not what you’d been expecting. 

“We’ve got some in the freezer. We can watch a movie on your laptop, you know… relax. Since our shopping trip kind of got ruined.” 

He was offering to hang out with you. With ice cream and a movie. “Don’t you have something important you should be doing?” 

“What could be more important than spending time with my best girl?” 

Blood rushed to your cheeks. That was a bit different from angel… “Being Captain America, maybe?” 

You felt guilty when a look of hurt crossed his face. “I’m not Captain America right now. I’m Steve Rogers - Steve from the coffee shop - and I’m asking if you want company.” 

“Careful, I think Jamie might get jealous.” 

Steve rose from his spot. “What do you like? Chocolate? Vanilla? Strawberry? I know we tend to get things based on who asked for them, but I bet I could find something you’d like.” 

“If there’s any [your favorite ice cream] in there, that’d be nice,” you said. “But I’m good with [basic flavor] otherwise.” 

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Steve with a nod. “Pick something to watch in the meanwhile.” 

You grabbed your laptop from the desk, placing the bag down where the laptop had been. You turned back at a suspicious sound. Was that glass? 

You placed your laptop onto the bed and turned back to the bag. There was a lot more in it than you had originally picked up. Notebooks, pencils (colored, charcoal, and regular), a few watercolors, a painting pad, paint brushes, and… a mug. You retrieved the last item to inspect it. On the front of the plain, white mug  _ Don’t stress meowt _ was written in black, with a kitten nose and whiskers drawn on the bottom of the cup. You hadn’t asked for it. Hell, you hadn’t even seen it before that moment. 

Steve had bought you a mug. 

“Find something?” 

You turned around. “Yeah, actually.” You held up the mug. 

“Ah. Yeah.” Steve sat on the bed, ice cream pints in hand. “It made me think of you. Do you like it?” 

You nodded setting the mug down on the table. “Thanks.” 

The two of you spent some time discussing movies before you finally settled on the comfort classic of Mary Poppins. FRIDAY darkened the windows as you settled down to enjoy the movie and ice cream. 

In the middle of Jolly Holiday, when Bert was obviously trying to woo Mary Poppins, FRIDAY - on James’ behalf - interrupted. You paused the video and moved to open the door. 

“Are you and Steve hanging out without me?” he asked. 

You shielded your eyes from the brightness of the hall to see him properly. 

“Tell him no,” said Steve from behind you. 

You laughed at his response, shaking your head. “We’re watching Mary Poppins. Wanna join us?” You stepped back to let him in. 

You let him kick off his shoes and kick his feet up on the bed before you shut the door, casting the room in darkness once more. It was a tight squeeze when you got up on the bed on the other side of Steve, and he ended up wrapping an arm around you. His hands were free since James had taken his ice cream container and he had the laptop balanced on his lap. You continued to indulge yourself with your own dessert as you rested against him. You couldn’t help yourself, you probably would have fallen off the bed if you didn’t cozy up. When you finished the container, you placed it on the bedside table and simply relaxed, singing along to some of the songs in the movie. 

“That was nice,” said James as the credits rolled. “I think it would’ve been a lot more comfortable if we’d been in our apartment, though. A little more space.”

Well he was certainly right about that. FRIDAY began to brighten the windows so you could see them. “Yeah. We could do this like, once a month when I move up there.” You watched carefully for a change of expression, but they seemed to have missed what you’d said.

“Why only once a month? We have movie nights every weekend,” said James.

“I don’t know, once a month just seemed like it’d be a normal schedule. You guys are busy. Every weekend, though,” you agreed. “Sounds like fun.” 

“So, you’ll come up every weekend? Seriously? Just move in,” said Steve. 

“I said I am.” Their expressions became shocked and slightly confused. A smile played on your lips. “I said, once a month  _ when I move up there _ .” You emphasized the last part by speaking dramatically slower. “If you guys still, y’know, actually want me there.” 

They were both stumbling over their words, but from what you caught, they had said something along the lines of “Of course we do.” 

“Great,” you said. “Sounds like it’s settled, then. I’ll try and move up there before school starts, if that’s alright?” 

Steve’s smile looked a little off. Not in a bad way though, almost pleasantly surprised, as if he were still getting over the shock of it. “Yeah, yeah, that’s fine, angel. If you need any help with your stuff, let us know.” 

“Sure thing, but I think I’ll be fine. It’s mostly just clothes. Uh, not to be rude but it’s like, three in the afternoon on a Thursday, and I’m sure you both probably have stuff to do today.” You slid off the bed and straightened your clothes. “I also have stuff I should be doing, finishing some prep work for school.” 

“Yeah, we’ll be going. Come up for dinner later, though, alright? Around seven,” said Steve. 

You accepted the invitation as they left before running your hands through your hair. It’d been a couple of weeks, but the length still caught you by surprise when you weren’t thinking about it. You were actually going to move in with them. You took out your phone, adding  _ movie nights every weekend _ to your list of reasons to move in with them. As an afterthought, you added  _ Steve bought me a mug _ and right after that  _ Jamie had Mr. Stark make me a mug _ . The fact that your other mug wasn’t around made you a little sad, but it wasn’t anything you could change. 

Also on the list as key points were coffee sundays, a warmer apartment, James (literally just James), and a more private space since there were only two of them. On a second list were all the reasons to stay in your current room, which included the nightmares that had frequented your sleep, James (again, just his name. He could be annoying at times), and what had happened the first night you’d slept in their apartment. In the end, though, you could try it out. And if it didn’t work out, you could just move back to your room.

“Hey, FRIDAY? Do you happen to have a clip of everything since the credits began.” 

“I do, Miss y/l/n, would you like me to send it to you?”

“Yes, please.” Yes, it was creepy there was a camera and mics in your room, but FRIDAY promised no data was saved for longer than five minutes unless there was a security breach. And at least you got a clip like that. 

* * *

Up in their apartment, Steve and Bucky were staring at each other in wonder. 

“Y/n’s actually moving in,” said Bucky. “I’m not dreaming, she actually said that, right?” 

“She did,” replied Steve. “Unless we’re having the same dream. I didn’t expect to be this happy about it.” 

“I didn’t either.” 

“How did we manage that?” 

Bucky shook his head. “I have no idea. Does it matter? I mean, it happened, didn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” A pause. “I’ll get started on dinner. You should probably clean your old room. Not that I think y/n would snoop, but just in case.” 

Bucky agreed. It wouldn’t do much good for y/n to find the variety of hidden weapons or any of his journals. “You should make pot roast. Everyone loves your pot roast.” 

“Pot roast it is,” said Steve, beginning by retrieving the materials he’d need. 

Y/n was moving in. Steve and Bucky couldn’t be happier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT THAT!! That’s like 15 pages y’all… And the ending mirrors the start! Second sentence “You couldn’t be happier” , and the last sentence with Steve and Bucky. _I_ couldn’t be happier!!! AHHHH I’m just so proud of myself lol XD   
> The most important part is if you all liked it. Did you like it? I hope you liked it. Reader is finally moving in! I know it took forever, but we’re here.  
> small life update: this math homework is driving me crazy 🙃😭😭😭 Idk what's going on but I'm trying.


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Peter is your T.A.  
> (T.A. means Teacher Assistant for those who are unfamiliar)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I damn near forgot to update lol - school is crazy!  
> Uh, I tried something new with my organization of scenes. I think it went well, but I'll let you see how it blends together for yourself.

You awoke bright and early on Monday, September 2nd. The first day of senior year. You had your backpack packed, your outfit and been chosen the night before, and you even had a plan to stop for coffee on your walk to school with Natasha and James. 

Sunday breakfast had been a little awkward the day before. You had been looped into the plan for tomorrow and Mr. Stark had finally given you that key he had promised all that time ago, when you had accidentally hacked into a SHIELD file. You’d gone down right after you finished your meal to scan in your fingerprints and set a numerical code, once again falling back on your library card number. That wasn’t the reason it was awkward, though. 

* * *

### The Day Before

Steve and James were early risers, _very_ early risers. You discovered this after James came to wake you up for breakfast. It was right after your first night in your new room, excluding the total mess that had happened the night you arrived at the tower. 

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he teased. “It’s already eight.” 

“ _Only_ eight,” you grumbled, pulling the pillow over your head. “Ten more minutes.” 

“Time to get up, we’re going down for breakfast.” 

“Ten more minutes,” you repeated.

“Nope. Steve and I are never late for breakfast.” He tugged at the pillow. “Did you stay up all night or something? Come on.” 

You hadn’t exactly been up _all_ night. You’d spent a lot of the night texting MJ and Ned in the groupchat, and then Peter in a separate chat, but it had only been until midnight. 

You peeped one eye open. James was already dressed and his hair looked wet. “Did you shower?” 

“Yeah, I did. After my run with Steve. Thanks for noticing. Now get up before I drag you off the bed.” 

It was humorous for half a second before you remembered that you’d actually been dragged out of bed before, several times. Would James do that? Hopefully not… “I’m up,” you said. You stretched your arms as you rose. “You can go down without me, you know.” 

“No, because usually someone goes knocking on your door anyways.”

He had a point there. You were normally one of the last people in the kitchen. “Whatever. I’m gonna go wash my face.” You walked past him on your way to the bathroom. Pretty much the only downside of moving in with them was having to use a shared bathroom, but considering you weren’t really sharing it with anyone, you were fine. For now, at least. When you exited, you could tell from their voices that Steve and James were in the living room or kitchen. You changed out of your pajamas before meeting them. 

“Good morning,” you said when you entered. 

“There you are,” said Steve. “Good morning. We were wondering if you’d gone back to bed.” 

“Nope. I’m awake. And I’m hungry, so come on.”

-In hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have been so eager. You were far from the last to breakfast (that day, the honor belonged to Clint), but you’d arrived after Sam and Natasha, who were both quick to notice your presence.-

“That’s not the way you usually come in,” observed Natasha, sipping her coffee. 

You took the pot from the coffee maker, pouring some into the mug from Steve before emptying the rest for the two others you’d come down with. “Yeah,” you drew the word out. “I’m moving in with Steve and Jamie. It’s warmer in their apartment than it is down here.” 

You handed Steve and James each their mugs before setting the coffee maker once more. Mr. Stark and Clint would not be happy without coffee. 

“Oh. Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” said Natasha. 

Unfortunately, not everyone could be as nonchalant as Natasha. 

Sam nearly let his eggs burn when he turned to you. “You’re… What?” 

Sam. How would he feel about this? You hadn’t really brought that into consideration. “Moving in with them. We’ll be neighbors,” you said. _Wow, you could not make that more awkward, y/n._ Lighten the mood, lighten the mood… “That’s um, not a problem is it? I promise I won’t blast my music or anything crazy like that.” 

“No. No, not a problem,” said Sam, turning back to his eggs. “Just not expected.” 

Mr. Stark (sans Pepper, who was away on a business trip) had possibly the worst timing in the world to enter at that very moment. “Wow, y/n, you’re awake? Already? Am I late?” He checked his watch. “It is eight twenty-three, right?” 

“It is,” said Sam. “Y/n’s up early because Steve and Bucky woke her up before they all came downstairs. Together.” 

Passive aggressiveness. From Sam. Ouch. You ignored it in favor of agreeing with him. “Yep. It’s warmer in their apartment so I’m moving in with them.” 

Mr. Stark frowned. “Did something happen to the space heater I got you?” 

“No, no, it was great,” you said quickly, “but whenever I left my room I was cold. It got a little annoying that I had to grab a sweater just to eat lunch comfortably.” 

“Oh. Well, as long as you’re comfortable,” he shrugged off. 

Natasha said something in what you assumed was russian, because you caught the word “myshka” and James had started laughing. 

“What?” you asked, looking between James and Natasha. “Natasha, what’d you say?” 

“Nothing,” said Natasha, barely hiding a smirk behind her coffee mug. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“It was about me.” 

“She basically said ‘Aw, she’s finally coming out of hiding,’” translated James. Given the meaning of the word myshka, though, you doubted that it was a direct translation, and you narrowed your eyes at a still smirking Natasha.

“I mean all the best, myshka,” she said as you blushed. 

That nickname was getting mildly more offensive each time she used it. “Yeah, sure. Good morning, Clint.” 

Clint grunted in response, retrieving a mug and waiting beside the coffee.

“Speaking of coming out of hiding,” said Mr. Stark. “Big day tomorrow, Ace. First day of senior year.” 

“Sure thing.” 

“Are you nervous?” he continued. 

“Not really?” you said. You began to set about making cereal. “Not of school, if that’s what you’re wondering. There are bigger problems to worry about.” 

“Like boys?” he suggested.

“Tony,” said Steve. “Don’t heckle her.” 

“It’s not _heckling._ I’m just curious.” 

“I’ve never actually had time for boys. Or anyone, for that matter, friends or otherwise,” you replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “I was talking more about the fact that this will officially be my second time leaving the tower in just over a month and the first time was a bit… Hectic.” 

Mr. Stark ah’d. 

“Don’t worry about that,” said Natasha. “Although, now that you bring it up, Barnes and I are walking you to school tomorrow.” 

You didn’t protest, but looked between her and Clint. “Aren’t you two normally a pair?” you asked, pointing to them both. Clint took a large swig from his drink. 

“I offered,” said James. 

“And I’m staying here and making sure everything that doesn’t directly involve you runs smoothly,” Clint added. 

“Cool.” You sat beside James with your cereal and coffee. 

Tony got back into the conversation of school, beginning to ask about the classes you were looking forward to and if you and Peter had any similarities in your schedules. 

“Yes,” you said. “We have a few classes and lunch together.” 

“Which classes?” prompted Tony. “I already know Pete’s schedule, so come on.” 

It was a little cringy. “Our study period, English, and Chemistry.” 

“What was that last one?” asked Clint. 

Your face was heating up. “Peter’s the T.A for my chemistry class,” you said, trying to make it seem not at all suspicious or odd. 

“So you two have chemistry,” said Mr. Stark suggestively. So, so cringy.

You hid your face behind one hand using the other to spoon up some cereal. “The class, yes. Every day for the whole school year, I have the second class of the day with Peter. One happens to be chemistry and the other is English.” You took a quick bite after you were done talking. 

There was a moment where you had to explain the block schedule for Steve and James, who didn’t understand how you had two second classes, but it wasn’t long. The conversation well and truly became about school after that, the things you looked forward to and others you despised. You were looking forward to seeing your friends… 

* * *

… Which was how you got here, with two coffees in hand. After taking a photo to mark the day, something Steve and James had insisted on, you had a quick breakfast, took the lunch they packed (in a brand new lunchbag no less), and were out the door with James. Natasha had entered the elevator from her floor, and then you were on your way. 

You had left earlier than you had to, and not just for coffee. Natasha had apparently planned a longer route than the one you were used to, so it was a bit of extra walking, but not otherwise a problem. You were still at Midtown long before classes began. 

“Keep your phone on,” reminded Natasha. “Clint and I will be waiting here when you’re done with school.”

“I know, I know, text if I notice anything and I have fifteen minutes before you come into the building to find me. Is that all?” 

“One more thing,” said Natasha. You held back a groan, which proved to be worth it when she said, “Enjoy yourself. It’s your last first day of school.” 

You grinned and gave her a quick hug, which seemed to take her by surprise. “I will. See you later!” 

You had promised to meet MJ, Ned, and Peter near the library entrance, and near the library entrance they were. “Hey guys! MJ, coffee, as promised.” 

“Y/n!” exclaimed Ned. “You cut your hair.” 

“Oh, yeah. A few weeks ago. MJ, take your coffee. It’s a salted caramel macchiato, like you asked for.” 

MJ took the proffered cup from you and had a sip. “Good to see you’re true to your word. And good to see you, I thought we’d be getting together as soon as we were back.” 

You lowered your voice a bit so people wouldn’t overhear you. “I know but I’m not really allowed to talk about it. Peter said he explained.”

“I did,” said Peter. 

“He did,” seconded Ned. “Still, it sucks that we couldn’t hang out. And we barely have any classes together.” 

“I know. I wasn’t the one against hanging out with you all, it just wasn’t in my control,” you complained. The warning bell went off. “Shoot, we should get going. I’ll see you in chemistry, Peter. We’ve all got lunch together, right?” 

“Yeah,” said MJ. “We’ll catch up later.”

You checked your phone to remember the room number before departing. Time for some good ol’ mathematics. 

* * *

MJ turned back to Peter. “Ohhh, Shuri is going to love this. You guys have _chemistry_ , Peter.” 

“Shut up,” grumbled Peter, a red flush making its way up his neck. “We should be going. We have that global studies class to get to.” The class was a requirement for anyone pursuing a Global Achievements certificate.

Peter tried his best to focus, but it was mostly just going over the syllabus and course schedule as well as a share of all the students’ favorite parts of the trip. Peter contributed a story about the canal trip he’d taken with MJ and the places they’d passed by. 

It wasn’t long before the bell rang and passing time began. 

Peter greeted Professor Baldwin with the familiarity that came after two years in their classroom. “Hey, Professor Baldwin, how’s it going?” [AN: NB teachers? Full send…]

“Peter! Great to see you,” said Professor Baldwin. “Not bad, not bad. Just the usual syllabus talk, introduction, you know the drill.” 

“Yeah. Is there anywhere you want me to sit?” Peter asked. 

“There _is_.” Professor Baldwin consulted their seating chart. “There’s a couple of your peers that waited a year before finishing this sequence, y/n y/l/n and Jacob Miller. I’ve put you with them over at the purple table in case they need extra help getting back into the hang of things.” 

“Oh.” That wasn’t very good. “Okay, okay, cool.” The ‘tables’ (which were really pushed together desks) sat four people each, and since Peter was the first one there, he got to choose his seat first. 

Jacob Miller. One of Flash’s friends. Peter hadn’t heard much about Flash after getting the news that he had a two year prison sentence. He hadn’t known any of Flash’s friends very well, but Jacob Miller was Flash’s right hand man. Not the type to hold people while the other punched, more like the one doing the punching. There was a third, Preston Hodgeman, _he_ held people. Hopefully with their ‘leader’ gone, they’d finally mature.

Y/n entered class with a bright smile on her face. “Hi Peter.” 

“Hey,” he greeted back. “How’s it going?” 

“Not bad. Math was… slow. It’s all review, you’ll be fine tomorrow,” she assured him. They had the same class on opposite days. 

“Please check the projector for your seats,” said Professor Baldwin as more students trickled in. “You’ll see a bucket in the middle of each group with extra highlighters, scissors, and the like to share, your table color corresponds to the color of the bucket. Kindly do not try to move the buckets to get a better seat,” they said as a student did just that. The student corrected the buckets and took a seat at the assigned table. “Thank you.” 

Y/n glanced up to the projetor and her smile slipped. “Well, at least we’re together,” she said slowly. She took the seat beside Peter. “Jacob, though…”

“Hey, we’ll be fine,” said Peter. “It’s probably just for a few weeks, Baldwin likes to change the seating charts every unit.” 

A facsimile smile crossed her face. “That’s good to know. How was your first block?”

Peter shrugged and made idle chatter about how it went. There wasn’t much to it, really, and he’d only listened with half an ear. 

Jacob was one of the last people in, just as the bell rang. He took a glance around and trekked to their table, sitting directly in front of y/n. 

“Alright, lets see… That’s all twenty six of you that I have here so we should be good to go. Welcome to Advanced Chemistry Two! Congratulations to you all for getting a C or higher in Advanced Chem One. There are a few familiar faces here. 

“Still, I’d like to start by introducing myself, I’m Professor Baldwin, you can also call me Mx. Baldwin, my pronouns are They/Them, and I’ll be your teacher for this year. I’m also the supervisor for the GSA, that is the Gender and Sexuality Alliance, so you can be sure that this is a safe space for everyone. That said, any homophobic, biphobic, transphobic, et cetera, comments, jokes, or slurs will get you sent to the office with absolutely no mercy. 

“Back on topic, this year I have a teacher’s assistant. Peter could you wave?” 

Peter, only slightly awkwardly, waved. “Hi everyone. Am I supposed to introduce myself?”

“If you want to.” 

He’d already suggested it, he might as well. “Well, like Professor Baldwin said, I’m Peter, my pronouns are he/him/his, and I’m the T.A. Uh…”

“Give us a fun fact,” encouraged Professor Baldwin. 

“Fun fact, fun fact…” Something not showy… Maybe something random? “I’m allergic to peppermint,” he decided. One of his very few weaknesses as a result of the spider bite.

“That must make christmas lame as hell,” said one student. The class turned to the speaker, who lifted his head up from the paper he was drawing on, shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes. He pushed it away from his forehead. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, just that everyone is always handing out candy canes and stuff. Goodness, everyone went silent.” The class began to laugh. 

“Thank you for that contribution…” Professor Baldwin held their hand to the student. 

“Daniel,” he filled in. 

“Daniel. Since you were so eager to speak, you’ll be the first for introductions later, sound good?” 

Daniel sunk into his seat with a small nod and Professor Baldwin continued on. 

“Alright, so, my professional development time is during the third block today and fourth block on B days. If you ever need help with assignments, visit me. I’m unavailable after school on Tuesdays and Fridays and if you plan to come after school please tell me beforehand. Onto the actual course.” They continued to explain the grading scale and policies on late work, how and when to turn things in, and proper lab etiquette. 

When the introductions began, Daniel started. “Uh, hi, I’m Daniel Rivera; my friends call me Dan. He/Him/His. A fun fact about me is that I’m the captain of the boys’ tennis team.” 

“A captain? With that much confidence?” exclaimed Professor Baldwin. “You can do better than that. Go again. Sit up, say it like you mean it.” 

Daniel sat up and took a breath. “Alright, trying again. Hi everyone, I’m Daniel Rivera, feel free to call me Dan. I go by he/him/his pronouns. A fun fact about me is that I’m captain of the boys’ tennis team. I’m looking forward to the school year with you all.” 

“That’s more like it. Thank you, Dan. Next. Keep the confidence, please.” 

It wasn’t long until the class had reached Peter’s table. 

Jacob started. “Jacob Miller, he/him/his, and I have two cats.” 

“What are their names?” asked Professor Baldwin. 

“Peanut and Oreo.” 

“Snack based. Interesting, thank you for sharing. If anyone else has pets, show me pictures sometimes. Or videos, please. Alright, last but not least.” 

Y/n sat up a little, fiddling with her bracelet a little. “I’m y/n y/l/n, she/her/hers, and a fun fact about me is that I cut my own hair over the summer.” Peter tried not to be disappointed when he didn’t learn anything new about her. It was just class, she didn’t have to share anything super personal.

“It looks gorgeous, good for you. Alright, well, that’s a wrap folks, I’ll see you all on wednesday,” dismissed Professor Baldwin, right as the bell rang. 

Peter packed up with y/n. “What class do you have next?” 

“Mechanics. You?” 

“Spanish. Do you mind if I walk with you?” he suggested. 

“Have habits from the tower carried over?” she joked quietly. 

She was smiling, so Peter smiled. “Maybe.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind one bit.” 

Peter’s heart filled with joy. “Great.” So he walked her down to the classroom, discussing the fact that _yes_ , he was badly allergic to peppermint and _yes_ , that meant candy canes were sparsely found in the tower. 

He promised he’d see her at lunch before booking it to his Spanish class. 

“How was it?” asked Ned.

“ _ No hablamos inglés en esta clase, Señor Leeds _ ,” scolded their teacher, Señora Bailey. “ _ Está en la puerta. ¿Necesitas tomar español tres de nuevo para aprender esa lección? _ ” [We don’t speak english in this class, Mr. Leeds. // It’s on the door. Do you need to take Spanish 3 again to learn that lesson?]

“ _ Lo siento, Profesora _ ,” apologized Ned. “ _ Quiero estar aquí. Puedo hablar español. _ ” [Sorry, Professor. // I want to be here. I can speak spanish.]

“ _ Bueno. Gracias. _ ” [Good. Thank you.]

“ _ De nada, _ ” replied Ned. To his friend, he asked “ _ ¿Cómo fue la química? _ ” [You’re welcome/No problem. // How was chemistry?] 

Peter set his things beside the desk next to Ned’s. “ _ Fue horrible. _ ” [It was horrible]

“No,” said Ned dramatically. “ _ ¿Por que? _ ” [why?] 

The bell rang “ _ Te lo diré después. Es una larga historia _ ,” said Peter. [I’ll tell you later. It’s a long story.] 

Peter spent his time focused on his coursework as they jumped right into the material. He’d have time to sulk about his somewhat-unfortunate seating assignment later, when he was back to thinking in english. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a Peter POV!!! Sort of. :D I know you all missed him- or maybe it was just me… whoops. Anyways, we’re back at school with an NB chemistry prof, a potential jerk tablemate, and a kid named Daniel. I wonder what’ll happen… Also, I took up to spanish 3 but someone let me know if that’s bad grammar or something… Final tidbit: I’m screaming on the inside... Did you all catch who MJ name dropped? 👀 
> 
> For those of you wondering: Math homework is being completed! I have just over half of the latest assignment complete... Now to catch up to my other 3 classes 😅😅 Y'all left the kindest comments this past week, though! I was so happy 🥰🥰🥰 you're all so nice to me and I love you all so much 💖💖💖


	56. Chapter 56

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are... normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting is being mean to me today.... the lists don't look EXACTLY how I want them, but I'm sure you're all smart enough to make sense of them the way they are right now.  
> ANyways, you all were so excited for this chapter when I mentioned it in the AN for Ch. 30. Do you remember that? It’s been a lil while. Like, what, at least 3 months ago. XD

If someone asked you what the weirdest part of living with two super soldiers was, it was how absolutely normal it felt. Like, really cliche TV show normal. 

You woke up to your alarm every school day at the same time you had last year. You went through your morning routine same as usual, except Steve and James usually came back from their run around the time you were starting to eat breakfast. You had managed to convince Steve that you could pack your own lunch, but he usually helped anyways. After that, James plus one (usually Natasha) walked you to school. 

Natasha almost always walked you back to the tower, sometimes with Clint, other times with Steve or James. Once with Sam, with whom you still hadn’t actually discussed your living situation. The progress your relationship had made was lost, and that particular walk had been really uncomfortable. He’d barely said more than two sentences to you the whole time. 

When you arrived back at the tower, you typically did your homework in your room before venturing down to the lab or the gym for a little bit, but you didn’t have a specific pattern. If you really wanted to do something in the lab, you’d go there first and do homework after. After your daily tinkering and/or workout, you went back up for dinner with Steve and James, and then had some downtime before bed. Discussions during meals were becoming easier (especially now that you could talk about school. It seemed to be the typical ice breaker, which was certainly different from your father’s reminders to study) and you’d fallen into a routine. 

It was normal. Really, really normal. So normal that it felt wrong. You began to find yourself awake for no reason at all, and you weren’t sure if it was more frustrating than waking up from nightmares or not. One of those nights, instead of turning on your desk lamp and staying in your room, you made your way into the living room with your phone and a book. 

Much to your surprise, you weren’t the only one who had decided to. James was lying on the couch with his head in Steve’s lap. Steve was running his fingers through James’ hair while paying attention to something beside him. 

You halted and considered turning back, but you’d already been noticed. “Hey, doll. Everything alright?” 

You nodded, slightly embarrassed that you’d walked in on a semi-intimate moment. “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you guys to be up. I was just going to sit here and read for a little bit.” 

“Go ahead. Why are you awake though? It’s only three,” said James. “Don’t you want to get a couple more hours of sleep in?”

You shrugged, shuffling to the seat you normally claimed. “I always had a bit of a wacky sleep schedule.” 

James snorted. “Join the club.” 

“Bucky,” chastised Steve lightly. 

“What? She’s already awake. It’s better to be awake with company.” 

You certainly agreed with him on that note. You had never considered the idea that you weren’t the only one with a nonexistent sleep cycle. Every time before this, the only sounds you heard were when you were paging through a book or clicking away on your laptop. “Are you guys always up at three in the morning?” you wondered.

Steve shook his head. “We usually wake up around five for our run.” 

“Hmn. Left over from the military or something you just decided on?” you asked. You remembered back when everyone in your family would be awake before six no matter what. Those were the days.

“A little bit of both,” said Steve. “How come?” 

You smiled. “No reason. Just curious.” 

“Curious, huh?” asked James. “And how about you? I know you normally get up when Steve and I are out.” 

“Yeah, I’m up around six thirty. I used to be up at five too, but that kind of stopped when I started working late shifts. Again, wacky sleep schedule.” 

You supposed that was the end of the conversation and began to read the book you’d brought.

“How old were you when you started working?” asked James after a couple of pages. 

You took a moment to think back. “Thirteen, but I didn’t work past ten p.m until… not last summer, but the one before that. I was never allowed to stay past midnight, though.” 

“That’s pretty late still,” said Steve. “What time did you normally get home?” 

“Earlier, when I started texting Jamie,” you said with a smile. Which was true, you didn’t know what James would do if you didn’t text him back. Actually, there had been one night when he had texted the next morning to make sure everything was okay… You’d rather not spend too much time thinking about it.

“That’s not funny, doll,” said James, propping himself up. “You didn’t text me until at least quarter past most of the time.”

Your smile slipped a bit. “It’s not that bad,” you said. 

“It is,” said Steve. “Why were you out so late? What were you doing?” 

“I never stayed out past one, so don’t get so upset,” you said, attempting for some damage control. “It’s not like I was out all night. And I wasn’t being a public menace or anything.”

James sat up all the way. “Can you at least try and take this seriously?” he requested. 

“I am,” you said. “I don’t see why you’re so upset, I’m fine. I was always careful.” 

“Careful or not, y/n, you shouldn’t have been out in the middle of the night, especially not longer than you had to be.” Uh-oh. This was actually a big deal to them if Steve was using your real name.

And of course, in a further effort to push away their attention, you tried to brush it off as nothing. “Well, I was. What are you going to do about it, ground me?” you scoffed. “It’s not like I’m going to do that nowadays.” 

James rubbed his forehead. “You’re missing the point.” 

“No,” denied Steve. “She knows the point. She’s deflecting.” 

You grit your teeth. Of course you were deflecting, you didn’t want to talk about it. 

“It was your dad, wasn’t it? Did he make you stay out?” Steve’s questions caused you to freeze. 

“I was out because I wanted to be. Nothing more or less,” you bit out.

“Still deflecting. You realize we have to talk about this at some point, right?” 

You made a face at that. You couldn’t help it. You didn’t want to talk about it ever. So no, as far as you were concerned, no one had to talk about it. “And it went oh-so-well last time we did that in the middle of the night,” you quipped. 

“You wanna be like that?” asked Steve. “Fine.” 

You didn’t believe he’d just give in so easily, but you watched as he took James’ hand and a moment later James laid back down. You turned to the book you’d brought with you, tucking your feet up comfortably. It was difficult to believe that neither of them were going to say anything. 

Eventually they did, but it didn’t have anything to do with your prior conversation. In hushed tones you heard “We should go get dressed” followed by “That time already? But I’m comfy here.” You glanced up to see Steve smile down at a pouty James. You pulled your book a little closer. 

“We’re going out on our run, wanna join us?” asked Steve. 

You shook your head quickly. “I can barely keep up with the training regimen Natasha’s got me on.” 

“You could probably keep pace with Sam, if you tried. He’d slow down a little, I’m sure.” 

Your frown deepened. “No thanks. I’ll just stay here.” 

“Your choice. We’ll be back by our usual time,” James promised. 

You heard from them once more when they left before you were alone with your reading. So Steve had truly dropped the topic… for now, at least. You were sure it’d come up again, but you planned to enjoy the next couple of hours by yourself.

* * *

Steve and Bucky were no stranger to each other's bodies. They’d seen each other in everything and nothing, so they had no problem changing in front of each other. 

“What are you planning?” asked Bucky. “You never give in that easily.” 

“She made a good point,” replied Steve. “And there will be plenty of time for us to discuss when she gets back from school.” 

“Ah.” Steve tossed Bucky a shirt from their closet. “Hey, does Wilson still seem distant to you? It’s been a few weeks.” 

Steve pulled on his own shirt as he answered. “I dunno. I asked him about it, he said it was nothing. Don’t start trouble with him, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, punk,” smirked Bucky. 

“Bucky.” 

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Changed and ready for their workout, Steve and Bucky met up with Sam in the hallway. Where Sam normally ran five miles, Steve and Bucky usually went for ten. They ran the first five miles at their own pace before finding Sam during their second lap around their usual route. Sam was quiet, taking in the city like he usually did. 

The unusual part was that Sam was still quiet when they were done. 

“Hey, man, you want to have lunch together later?” offered Bucky. 

“I’m good, thanks,” replied Sam. “See you in the gym.” 

Well, no one could tell Bucky he hadn’t done anything. He had tried. Still, Steve and Bucky exchanged looks. It was odd for Sam to be so distant, but if he was dealing with something on his own, they weren’t going to push. 

* * *

You knew Steve hadn’t given in so easily. When he came knocking at your door while you completed homework, you were perfectly well aware of why before he even said anything. The two super soldiers usually let you be when it came to completing school work. 

You gave him a tight smile as he entered. James followed right behind him. “Steve, Jamie. To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You can’t tell? We came to talk,” said Steve, settling on your bed. “After all, it’s not the middle of the night anymore.” 

Mentally, you were cursing him out. Physically though, you were still smiling (if you could call it that. It was really more of a grimace at that point). “Ah.” 

“I’m just going to cut to the chase,” said Steve. “We don’t need to know everything, but we still need to talk about what happened between you and your father.” 

“I don’t see why,” you grumbled, turning to a physics equation written in your notebook. “It happened. I’m here. He’s gone.” 

“We’d still like to know _what_ happened,” said Steve. “It’s a part of your story.” 

You rolled your eyes. Part of your story… What the hell was that even supposed to mean? “A story that you’re not necessarily entitled to.” 

“I never said I was,” said Steve. 

“Great, so you agree we don’t have to talk. Wonderful. I’ve got homework to get back to.” 

“You can’t do this forever,” said Steve. “I know that when you moved into the tower you did your own thing for a while, but we still need to talk about expectations of each other at the very least and what you’re used to.” 

“We’ve been fine this long,” you pointed out. This long being the roughly two weeks since you’d started to stay with them.

“That doesn’t mean that something won’t come up. I’d rather we just lay everything out now.” 

“Fine.” You tossed your pencil onto the desk and spun your chair around so that they had your full attention. “What would you fine gentlemen like to start with?” 

“Let’s start with this morning.” Steve was doing all of the talking. Did James not want to be a part of the conversation? That made two of you. “Was staying out late an expectation?” 

“No,” you scoffed. “Not that it’s relevant because I’m not doing that.” You didn’t have a death wish, after all. 

“It’s relevant because you’re awake in the middle of the night. And also because of what happened when you got kicked out.” 

You were going to point out that your sleep schedule was already fucked, and had been for a while, but his second statement made you go silent. They wanted to talk about that? “That was like, two months ago.”

“And we still haven’t talked about it.” 

“We did,” you said. “That very same night and then the next morning at breakfast and then again the day I broke my hand.” 

“Not really,” said James. “You told us what happened, then we discussed the panic attack you’d had, and then we talked about what it might look like when you got back to school and where you were staying. In that order.” 

“What else is there to talk about?” you questioned. “I don’t see why I have to talk about it, it’s not like I’m going against him in court. He’s arrested. He’s gone. Why does it matter?” 

“I already said why,” answered Steve. “Because something might come up and it’s better to figure things out now instead of later.” 

Back when you were younger, your mom had told you that your eyes would get stuck in the back of your head if you kept rolling them. You used that thought to help you resist the expression. “I’m perfectly fine figuring things out on my own.” 

“The thing is, you don’t have to,” said James. He froze for a second before shaking his head a slight frown settling on his features. “Didn’t you say something like that when you broke your hand, anyways?”

You watched Steve take his hand. They seemed to do that a lot. Maybe it was their way of comforting each other. “We want to support you as much as we can, angel. That’s why we want to talk.” 

You wished you hadn’t abandoned your work. This conversation would’ve been a lot more tolerable if you had a way to busy your hands. “Can I think about it? Like, do you guys have something you want answered in particular? Because I don’t know what you guys want from me,” you said helplessly. 

“So you want a list of things we want to know?” checked James. 

You nodded.

They exchanged a look. “We can do that. But I want you to do the same,” said James. “At least three points. It can be questions, requests, boundaries you don’t want us crossing, whatever you want, but at least three. Sound good?” 

You nodded again. “I’ll uh, work on that after my homework,” you said. 

“No rush,” said James. “Take your time.” 

Two days passed normally. No mention of the lists, no mention of the talk, and no change in attitude or behavior. 

It had taken you two days to complete the list. 

On it were three points.

  1. What are my limits in the apartments? What rooms am I never allowed into? Where am I allowed if I knock first? What am I (not) allowed to use?
  2. Am I allowed to leave the apartment after dinner? 
  3. What chores do I have to do? 



That one was a bit of a throw in, just to get a third point down. Then, when the weekend had passed, you added: 

  1. What’s expected of me on the weekends? 
  2. Would I ever be allowed into the art studio? 
  3. The shopping trip was a mess, are we ever going out again?



Steve had mentioned getting things out of the way before they happened, so as a last minute add-on:

  1. What am I supposed to do while you’re away at missions? What about before you come back? What am I _not_ supposed to do? (Other than the obvious “don’t throw a party” and “don’t invite people over.”)



But they’d asked you for boundaries, too, and so you sat at your desk for a little longer before simply writing

Boundaries:

  1. Knock before entering my room.


  *     * Please don’t go through my stuff when I’m not around 


  1. Never wake me up by touching me.



You struggled for something else. There had to be something else, you knew there were other things that irked you. In fact, there was one thing that had bothered you just that weekend.

  1. Alone time. It’s great to hang out, but I need at least a few hours of alone time on the weekend. 



Good. Three for that. Maybe you’d add to it sometime. You assumed you’d be allowed to add to it, at least. You wanted to add “don’t ask about my father” but considering the reason you were doing this… exercise, for lack of better word, you didn’t think it’d be worth it. 

Now you just needed to leave the note somewhere they’d find it. Your chosen location? The floor outside their bedroom door. You’d had trouble falling asleep, and neither of them looked or sounded awake, so you set it down on the floor and retreated to your room. 

One full day passed before you found two folded sheets of paper held in the shut door of your bedroom. You took them as you entered and went to your desk anxiously. One of them was front and back. 

Rules and expectations: 

  * When you’re hurt, tell us. This is non-negotiable. 
  * No drinking or drugs
  * Have respect for others and yourself 
  * Be honest 
  * Home for dinner. Negotiable with advance notice. The current expectation is that you are remaining in the tower regardless.
  * Snacks in your room are acceptable. Full meals are not. Snacks to avoid meals will cost you this privilege. 
  * We trust you to use discretion with electronics. 
    *       * At the bare minimum, be mindful of what you’re posting and sending. 



Chores:

  * You are responsible for your space and belongings. Keep your room clean. We trust you can do your own laundry. 
    *       * That said, our messes are also our responsibility. Should we leave things out, you are NOT expected to clean up after us. 
  * Set the table or wash dishes when it’s your turn to 
  * It’s everyone’s responsibility to keep the apartment clean, which means you may be asked at some point to dust or vacuum as needed. It’s expected that the task is complete within two days of the request.



Not too bad then… Certainly a lot less than the Lieutenant had set for you. Rather lenient too. You flipped to the back. 

Answers:

  1. You can knock whenever for the office or our bedroom. The only room you need advance permission to enter is Bucky’s old one. We expect you not to enter our rooms while we’re not around and to wait before entering. You can use what you want around the apartment, but if you’re really not sure about something, ask.
  2. Depends one where you want to go and why. We’d like to know where to find you if needed. As long as you’re safely within the tower, it’s unlikely we’d stop you.
  3. Answered on the other side. 
  4. Not much. Coffee and Team Breakfast on Sundays and home for movie night if you want to take part in it. Stay safe and let us know where we can find you. Keep your phone on. 
  5. Yes, you’re allowed in the art studio. The expectation is that you don’t snoop and don’t mess around with work that’s not your own. 
  6. We can, but it’s something to discuss in person
  7. Better to discuss in person. 



It took you a second to recall what two and six had been, but when you did, you accepted the answers. Below that were a few questions and a note.

  * Other than touch, what are some other triggers for us to avoid?
  * How much alone time is a few hours? A few hours all weekend or each day? 



You unfolded the second sheet and could immediately tell someone else had written it. On it was a short list of triggers for James. Things and places not to mention, questions not to ask. Not to wake him up by touching him, same as you. Below the list was another note. 

_It can be hard opening up. We’re not expecting you to tell us everything, but we’re both here if you want to talk. Please don’t shut us out. We’d really appreciate it if you could answer a few questions, but if you’re not ready, that’s okay._

  * _Has your father ever hurt you? Not including when he kicked you out._


  * _What were some expectations he had for you?_


  * _How did he punish you if these expectations weren’t met?_



You sighed. Of course they’d want to know. That was how the whole discussion started after all. On a new sheet of paper, you began with answers to their first set of questions. 

  * I’m not a fan of yelling, I’ll usually try to avoid it. The idea of getting into a car. The cold. 
  * A few hours alone each day of the weekend. At least 4



Questions:

  * What counts as a full meal? Like, I’m not allowed to bring lunch to my room or I’m not allowed to keep certain foods in my room?
  * How do I know it’s my turn to set the table or wash up? Does each person have their own day? 



You folded the paper in half and set it aside before ripping James’ questions off his list.

  * Yes. When he was angry. He was usually drunk.
  * Home directly after school and on weekends unless I asked him beforehand. Phone bill and half of rent were my responsibility, along with cleaning the house and doing the laundry. 
  * Depends on what I did or didn’t do. 



Two notes… Where to put them? Outside their door again, you supposed. 

The next day, there was a knock on your door as you sat at your desk completing homework. 

“Come in,” you said. 

The two super soldiers entered. Steve held up the two pieces of paper. “Have some time to talk?” 

“Am I allowed to say no?” you asked rhetorically, beginning to pack up your things. 

“You can, actually,” said James. You paused. “We were a bit harsh before. We’ve all been pretending like that didn’t happen, but it did, and we’re sorry. So if you’re busy with homework or something…” 

That wasn’t what you’d expected. “I should be taking a break around now anyways,” you said. You took a glance around your room as they sat on the bed. “And I should get more seating around here if this is going to be a regular occurrence.” 

“Maybe,” replied Steve as they both settled on your bed. “We can start with the light stuff or the heavy stuff.” 

“Light stuff, I guess,” you said. 

“Okay,” said James. “Let’s start with the full meals thing. Remember when you used to spend days in your room downstairs?” You nodded. “That’s pretty much where the rule is coming from. We don’t want you hiding out in here all the time.”

It made sense. “Alright.” 

“For chores,” began Steve. “It’s more of a daily thing. So I’m doing dishes tonight, Bucky has them tomorrow, and then it’s your turn. Make sense?” 

You nodded. “Are we going to talk about the mission thing?” 

“You mean what you’re supposed to do while we’re away?” asked Steve. 

“Yeah.” 

He sighed. “There probably isn’t much you can do. Depending on the mission, we might or might not be able to check in. If we’re able to check in, we will. If not, FRIDAY can reach us for emergencies.” 

“Cool, cool,” you accepted. “And you’ll tell me for each, before, right?” 

“We’ll tell you before we leave,” said Steve. “Do you think we’d leave without any warning?”

You shrugged. “I just didn’t know.” 

“Hm… This segways pretty well into the heavier stuff, did your father leave without saying anything?” he asked. 

You huffed. “Doesn’t matter if he said something or not, I’m pretty sure the entire floor of my apartment heard the doors slam. I don’t know how he never- well, actually, he did crack it once,” you said considerably. You saw their expressions somber and moved on quickly. “Anyways, I knew when he was gone. Sometimes he wouldn’t tell me he had a shift though, and that was annoying.” 

“Understandable,” said Steve. Pft, as if. Unless Steve had experience being physically dragged out of bed to make someone breakfast, you doubted he understood anything.

“What were some of his expectations for you while he was out?” asked James. 

And here comes the hard part. Then again, they said you didn’t have to mention everything. “Do my chores, do my homework. Run errands.” 

“Errands like…” began Steve. 

“Grocery shopping, make sure the rent was on time, nothing big. Nothing illegal, either. He-” _almost got caught sending me to buy beer for him_. Nope, not the thing you wanted to say. “He took his job pretty seriously, I guess.” 

“About that,” said James. “You’ve called him the lieutenant a couple of times.” 

You definitely were not getting into that right now... “That’s his rank. My boss and coworkers all called him Lieutenant Hardass,” you smiled. “Guess it stuck.” 

Steve didn’t seem very bothered by the language, or if he was, he looked past it. “So your coworkers knew about him.” 

You shrugged. “Not really. They found me in the break room once, crying, so I told them what they needed to know. Just about having to pay for my phone and some of rent. I ended up asking for a raise the next day.”

“They didn’t know about the injuries or being kicked out,” stated James. 

“No,” you mumbled. You had told them only that your father was arrested and that you had to quit so things could be sorted out. And the hitting… You’d just never told them. 

The atmosphere took a slightly graver tone. “How long did it go on for?” asked James. 

“Do you really need to know?” you asked glumly. “Because I don’t think you do.” 

“I know it was long enough to teach you how to avoid a hit,” he said, “and long enough for you to know how to take one.” 

“I’m pretty sure Natasha is the one training me, not you.” 

“You know what he did to you-” 

“Was wrong, yes,” you said. “Was abuse, whatever.” 

“Not whatever,” said Steve immediately. “Y/n, it’s a big deal.” 

“Not as big of a deal as you’re making it,” you ground out. “I knew what was going on the whole time, yes. And the situation grew out of control and then some, I’m aware. Again, I don’t see why this is important if he’s gone. I already know what he did was wrong. So just drop it, would you?” Wow, y/n, way to snap at them. That’ll convince them that you’re perfectly okay for sure. “I think I should be getting back to my homework.” 

Steve was not like you, nor was he like your father. Anger didn’t roll off of him in waves; his body language was the exact same as it had been when you had begun the discussion. His eyes, though… His eyes were angry. You moved back and looked towards your homework again.

James stood, partially yanking Steve up. “Try and finish before dinner, okay, doll?” 

“Yeah, I usually do,” you said. 

You finished your homework and went down to the lab to pass some time. By the time you came back up for dinner, everything was normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things went back to normal. We’re okay… We’re okay, right?
> 
> fun fact: I have makeup on rn and I'm Really Feeling it :D I put some on for a zoom call and I stole it from my mom because I'm "too young" to have my own (Absolute Nonsense, in my opinion, and while I'm not going to share my age, I'm at the end of my high school career...)   
> Anyways, I feel gorgeous and validated!! I looked nice!! (Now I have to do my homework lol AHHHHH)


End file.
